Love in the Flower Archipelago: Rosie's Love Life
by The Sapphire Prince
Summary: I'm BACK. This is an entirely new fic about our beloved heroine's love life. Some things are constant yet some things change (i.e. the people). THE LAST TWO CHAPTERS ARE HERE! PLEASE R&R!
1. The Beginning

Love in the Flower Archipelago 

Written by the Sapphire Prince

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n All who wish to use my ideas and/or characters must have my permission.  My email address is DeeSimz926@cs.com.

n All of the characters and pokemon names are completely original.  Any relations to actual people or events are used fictitiously.

n Be a considerate reader and review the fan-fiction no matter how horrible or great it may be.

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          **Author's Note:**

Hello!  It is I, the Sapphire Prince, formerly known as Sparkling Sapphires.  For some odd reason I cannot seem to just let go of the sapphires.  Anyways, this is a new fan-fiction that I've decided to start.  It is about our dear, most cherished heroine, Rosie Fierra, and her love life.  Things will not be as they were in the previous series, oh no, they definitely will not.  However, there will be many of the same characters, just different backgrounds.  The pokemon will definitely stay the same; they're constant.  The time period is also quite different.  I've had a binge on 19th century novels lately.  I love them: therefore, this is what the time period is going to be.  The language is a little bit more formal and I will try not to use as many big words.  It's also in third person point-of-view and it is in past tense.  I do not how many chapters this will be.  I'm open for new characters to introduce.  Describe them in the reviews!  Please enjoy this fan-fiction…  

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**The Premiere******

            Rosamunde Fierra leaned against the windowpane of a large, open casement.  A salty breeze blew, filling her nose with that familiar, and most heartily welcomed scent of the ocean.  She sighed as she thought of her achievements in life and of the struggles.  Six years ago was when she had first become a trainer, her loss at the Flower League happen after that.  However, her most significant goal was her winning of the – Cup, thus making her the winner of the – League.  She was thought of as a formidable opponent and a lady of rank.  In fact, she was invited to a royal tonight, or rather that night.  

The Queen of the Flower Archipelago, Flora as they called it then, sent out invitations to all of the winners of any league so that they could attend the ball.  Many battles would be fought and, perhaps, maybe some mutual attachments would be formed, for many young people in one place are likely to develop love interests.  The Queen, Queen Grace, a woman of merely twenty-eight years of age, was known for giving many dances and balls.  She was all for making the citizens of her kingdom happy.  This was a golden age for Flora: she had islands scattered all over the Flora Ocean and one island off of the coast of Kanto, the people were in good health, crime was low, everyone loved the Queen, and Flora was one of the most powerful members of the League of Nations, and poverty was virtually unheard of.  Times were wonderful.

Rosie became noticeable of a light tugging at her knee.  It was her pokemon, an Aipom with cobalt fur and eyes like a black diamond.  She scooped her friend up into arms.  

"Hello Eleanor, are you feeling well?"

Yes.  I am feeling quite sensational.  Do tell me that you are going to that ball tonight because I am rather eager to go. 

Rosie thought with a pensive countenance and a long finger twirling a tendril of fuchsia hair.  "I suppose that I will," she said.  "Why are you so eager to go Eleanor?"

There will be a great deal of other pokemon there.  Perhaps I could find a handsome male counterpart of myself.   Eleanor giggled as she said so, for she was in her prime and in search of a mate.  Yes, she still battled, as did all of her pokemon, but there is more to life than just that.  She wanted a family.

"That would be capital, I suppose," she said with an air of uncertainty.  If Eleanor were to leave her, she would not know what she would do with herself.  Although Rosamunde loved all of her pokemon dearly, she could not help but esteem her first pokemon more.  Ellie was her life as well as Dew, her Marril, who had now evolved into an Azumarill, who still referred to her as his mother. 

Being as close to her friend as she was, Eleanor quickly noticed the change in Rosie's demeanor.  Rosie often wore her emotions on her sleeve: she was not any good in trying to shield them.  If Rosie wanted to cry, it shows; if she wants to deck someone, well—that's another thing—women were not taught to fight (however, she has done it before).  In conclusion, anyone can tell how she is feeling at any moment.  

Rosie, if I found a mate, I would not leave you. 

This cheered our heroine up quite drastically.  Her heart swelled up in relief.

"Now that _is_ capital, my friend: truly capital."  Rosamunde smiled once more.  Every moment that a person shares with someone that they love is crucial, for one never knows when that person may be taken away from them, either voluntarily or involuntarily.  "I had better begun my toilette dear Eleanor.  Do help me choose which dress to wear.  I am certain that the Queen will be wearing a fabulous evening gown tonight.  If only I could look half as fine."

Everyone knows that you are a belle.  Do not worry over such trifles. 

Rosamunde walked over to her armoire and opened the two oak doors.  The musk of a white lily invaded her nostrils: she had promptly placed a white lily under each layer of frocks, so that they would smell pleasant.  Rosie had many frocks indeed, yet they were few in comparison to others.  Rosamunde, being clever, put much of her savings in the bank in a fixed account that allows her to withdraw the money within a month from now.  Money had been in the account for over 6 years with an interest rate of about 6%; it occasionally went up to rates as high as 10%.  I would say that she had over 100,000 petals (the former currency of Flora), which was equal to fifty cents in American currency.  This was a great sum of money for anyone to have and it would place her in high society.  

The young woman decided that a dusky rose would best complement her features.  She then stripped out of her afternoon frock and put on a fresh chemise, the putting on of a firmly fitting corset ensued, but this was not completely necessary, for Rosie had a striking figure already, which can only be made more striking with the aid of the corset.  Eleanor gladly tightened the strings, for this was done regularly because Rosie was always being invited to some sort of dance.

The process of doing her hair up and adding the right amount of flowers to the hair took about half of an hour.  Everything was complete when she sprayed some lavender musk to the appropriate sections of her body.

With Ellie on her shoulder, Rosamunde descended the stairs that led to the parlor where her parents were sitting down, enjoying a card game.  They were going to go visit Miss Hanna's parents while she and Rosie were at the ball.  Both looked up to see their sensational-looking daughter.

 "How precious she is my love.  Look at our handsome daughter," Mrs. Fierra cried.  Mrs. Fierra was a great mother; she and her daughter were rather close.  She was the perfect mix of sensibility: she could be the stern disciplinarian when called for but she could also be the empathetic, loving being when she needed to be.

"Oh yes my love, but I do think that that neckline is quite disagreeable.  Look how far it plunges."  Mr. Fierra was the model dad: loving and overprotective.

"My God dear!  It is only a square-neck."

"_Only_ a square-neck?  You are dreadfully mistaken, for it shows off way too much."

"A woman cannot hide her charms.  Besides, it attracts the young men."

"Her brain should be attracting the young men, for she is such a clever lass indeed."

Rosamunde just stood and observed.  It was the classic mother vs. father match over how revealing an article of clothing was.  Eleanor smiled.  

Mother, I am come!  I have just retired from taking a dip in the pond.   This came from Dew, her pride and joy.  He was wet and coming straight for her but he quickly remembered that this was definitely frowned upon, so he halted in his tracks.

"How was it?"

Wonderful! 

"That is great."

"When should send for the chaise and four my ladies?  It is dusk as of now."  Sure enough, the gigantic sun was just beginning to dip under the horizon, painting the sky with streaks of goldenrod, mauve, and indigo.  It was truly beautiful.

"Do it now."

Mr. Fierra promptly crossed the room and walked out of the door, in order to ring the bell for the coachman to arrive.  A Marril heard the bell and it chirped out the appropriate noises.  It did this in order to tell the coachman where to go.  Minutes later, two black stallions pranced up to the gate of Rosewood, the name of the estate, and Mr. Fierra and his two ladies soon hopped into the coach.  Rosie made sure that her handbag had the four pokeballs that she had placed in there earlier were there.  They were.  The pokeballs contained: Lady Vanilla and Lady Starlight, along with Sir Dawn (this was Sunrise's new name), and Sir Crimson.  

The ride to Melbourne Palace was short; it only took about a half of an hour.  Rosamunde could have easily promenaded over to the palace; however, her expensive gown would have been torn and her feet would have ached.  Each time that Rosie visited the palace; she could not help but to admire its splendors.  There was a large fountain if front of it with a statue of Aurora riding her creamy stallions through the sky, waving her rosy fingers to-and-fro.  There were many tall columns of smoky colored marble with carvings of the Greek Gods and famous scenes in Flora's history.  The large national flag could also be seen, the colors were blue, white, and green; the coat-of-arms was a Lugia with a coronet of flowers and fruits encircling its head.  It was very pretty in the citizens' eyes.         

The coachman helped Rosie out, after she bade her parents "good-bye".  They were free, without the hassles of worrying about the triplets, who were five by now.  They were at their Aunt Peony's house for a few weeks, for this was a time of extended visits to one's acquaintances.  The two boys, Evan and Julian, were like most boys: highly rambunctious and energetic while Rosalynne, she was sweet and timid, and a major fan of flowers, she also loved to play tunes on her small harp.  Each child was healthy and happy; they would be attending school by the next autumn, it was the beginning a spring as of now, where new beginnings and changes often took place.

With Eleanor faithfully perched on her soft shoulder, Rosamunde breezed up the grand staircase, which led to the large port, where a doorman stood sentinel.

 "What is your name Miss?"  This is what he asked, with a thick accent, like that of a Frenchman, and a perturbed air.  Rosie assumed that he must have been one of the lesser members of the royal family, for they often had such a brogue, or he could have just been an impersonator: there were many of them.

"My name is Rosamunde Fierra, sir," she said nicely.  Tonight was a night that she had to keep her temper and to be agreeable towards everyone, in spite of his or her haughtiness.

"Which league were you the winner of?"

"The --- League, sir."

"Very well," he said as he took her arm.  This was a common courtesy that men performed when a single woman entered a room.  Rosie was led to an extremely long table with men on one side and with women on the other.  Each person was having a good time; one could tell by the expressions on their faces.  The women were dressed in fine silks or crepe material while the men were dressed in the formal white, collarless or collared shirt and vest, a bowtie, trousers, and leather shoes.  Hair was slicked back and a boutonnières were common near the necklines of the shirts: this was in high fashion at the time.  Pokemon were also in their trainers' laps, enjoying conversation with one another.  Rosie was seated next to her friends, Hannah and Rochelle (Rika), who were more than overjoyed at the sight of her.

"It has been a very long Rosie, a very long time," said Rochelle, who looked marvelous in her violet frock.

"Too long if you ask me, Rika.  What have you been doing lately?  I had the pleasure of studying your photographs in the newspaper just the other day," said Rosie.  Rochelle was an excellent photographer, one of the few female photographers at the time.  Her work could be seen in the Review every week and she had made quite a fortune doing so.  However, there was more to just taking pictures of pokemon than the money, it allowed her to capture the animal's true beauty and thoughts, it was interpersonal, in a way.  Rika lived in a humble abode, by the seashore with her family, on Autumn Island, where she and Rosie first met.  All was well.

"I've been taking classes at Autumn University in order to learn the art of painting portraits of pokemon.  Lassie is my prime subject right now, she's so picturesque and photogenic."

"And you Hannah?"

Hannah blushed, "I've been proposed to by the man of my dreams.  My Joshua proposed to _me_.  I accepted him!"  She was genuinely happy.

This was no surprise to Rochelle and her friend because the pair of lovebirds had endured a long courtship, and if they were a day apart, lovesickness would get the best of them.  

"Congratulations," the young women cried as they hugged their friend tenderly.

Rosamunde and Rochelle could not help but to envy their friend's good fortune.  She was the only young woman in their circle of friends who had ever been proposed to.  The attachment was already secured and one was unequivocal at the fact that she was going to marry for the sake of love and not for money, as many did in that time.  A healthy glow was prominent on her cheeks, and her eyes sparkled.  An engaged woman usually looks much more radiant than before because she is sure of herself and proud of herself.  Knowing that someone loves you is a great feeling.

The girlfriends sipped on the sparkly champagne, admiring the great chinaware and overall setting of the hall.  The floor was made of freshly polished marble and crystal chandeliers were frequent also.  Bouquets were also prevalent; they flowers were and white; the green of the stems completed the nationalistic aura.  An orchestra sat in the pit that was before the grand stage, playing lovely tunes.

In a matter of moments, the trumpets began to blare, accomplishing the task of getting everyone's attention.  "Salute to the mother of the grand country of Flora, the lovely Queen Grace and her brother, Prince Burke!"  The royal preceder spoke this long sentence.  With that, the national anthem, "All Hail the Kingdom of Flora", was played by the orchestra, which was led by a talented man on the pianoforte.  The Queen and her brother walked unto the stage in long, graceful strides.  Her majesty was stunning in her white silk and golden crown of emeralds, sapphires, and diamonds; part of her long, luxurious teal hair was gathered up near the front, while the rest fell down to the small of her back in shiny ringlets.  Her devoted Poliwhirl's hand was intertwined with hers.  Prince Burke was considered to be one of the handsomest men in all of the land: he was tall and well proportioned and strongly featured with the hereditary teal hair and eyes the color of the ocean.  His Croconaw was present. 

"Good evening my talented trainers," said the Queen quite happily.  In case you were wondering, the monarchy system is quite different.  The order of the monarch goes by age, not gender.  This evidently means that her majesty is the eldest of the two: she was her brother's senior by one year.  There was a large round of applause given at this point.

"The evening's festivities will include a dance, of course, pokemon trainer battles, and at the very end, one lucky young man and woman will have the pleasure of dancing with my brother and I.  Until then, I would like to thank our talented pianist, Chadwick Jones (He stood up and bowed accordingly) for playing so splendidly.  Dinner is now being served," she said as she and her brother departed to the ends of the great tables.  Rosamunde was very near to the Prince. 

A maitre made his way down long table, placing a silver dish of roasted chicken and vegetables in front of each guest.  The scent was invigorating.

Rochelle and Hannah noticed that the Prince was staring intently at their companion.  They giggled and whispered into her ear, looking at the Prince the whole time, "you seem to have an admirer."

She was surprised.  "Who?"

"Look towards the head of the table."

Rosamunde did as she was told, and her eyes met with the Prince's.  She blushed and smiled courteously.

"May I have the pleasure of knowing your name?"  The Prince asked with a suavity of tone that could make any ordinary females bosom heave in ecstasy, however, Rosie was not ordinary, but her bosom heaved nonetheless, and Prince Burke saw this for her neckline showed off her cleavage, as most evening gowns were designed to.

"I am Rosamunde Fierra your Majesty," she said coolly.  She was well composed: a commendable attribute for anyone.

"Rosamunde is a beautiful name indeed.  Tell me Miss Fierra, where have your journeys taken you?  Not very far, I assume," he paused.  Rosie flushed in annoyance, however, he quickly countered with, "For you have not the hardened features of a woman who has."  She smiled; the anger was lifted.

"You're took kind, my prince."

"_Your _prince," he said with a smirk, "I had not the slightest idea that I belonged to just one person."

"Oh no, your Majesty, you are shared by many, indeed."

"Is that supposed to be an insult or a fact?"

"Which ever way you want to take it, your Majesty.  I, for one, intended it to be a fact."

"You have good sense Miss Fierra.  Please introduce me to your companions; a trio of beauties are uncommon."

"With no intention on offending, I will say this: beauties are common in any amount, be it physical or mental, sir."

"This is true," he said with a wink, "you are extremely clever.  Nobody usually corrects my generalizations except for my sister, the almighty Queen."  The tone was sarcastic, which left Rosie to debate on whether he was jealous of his sister.

"You are the only person whom I have ever heard mock Queen Grace, your Majesty," said Rochelle.

"Your Aipom is adorable Miss Fierra.  She looks strong," said the Prince.

"Lady Eleanor is a formidable opponent, to be sure, however, like anything, she is not perfect.  However, she is perfect for me."

"Is that so?"

"Yes it is."

Rosamunde nibbled on her dinner, as did Eleanor, who was beaming at the fact that royalty had complimented her.  Rosie was enjoying having this tête-à-tête with Prince Burke, yet, she was eager to have a dance.  If only she could ask him out to dance.  "Perhaps I will be fortunate enough to be chosen to dance with him later," she thought.

Another young man, with short brown hair and an Umbreon sat across the table from her.  He was looking at her oddly, to which she herself noticed.  She spoke up, "is there a problem sir?"

The man grinned as he said, "oh no there is no problem.  You seem to look familiar; that is all.  I could not help but overhearing your conversation.  I have been enlightened at the fact that you are the Miss Fierra who I had the pleasure of attending school with at Pokemon University, am not I correct?"

"When you mentioned that, I realized that you must be Mr. Skyler."

"My name Fredric, but you may call me by my last name if you wish.  All of my friends do."

"I will do so Skyler."

"Well then, would you like to have a dance?"

Rosamunde thought about this briefly.  He was tall, dark, and handsome and seemed to have a good disposition back at the University.  What could be the harm in a meaningless dance?  Here, Reader is an error, for no dance is meaningless: it means something to at least one of the people involved.  Rosie wound up feeling something when he took her hand: a new feeling.  What was it?  They danced as one being, each person observing great it felt to be touching one another, while someone brooded in the corner**…. **  

            **Is the Prince jealous?  Does he have the right to be?  Who is Chadwick Jones, will he ever make an appearance.  In the next chapter, there will be the conclusion of the night, and the beginning of a wild rhombus or polygon of love.  There will be more pokemon battles and such; however, the main focus is on romance.  I hoped that you enjoyed it!  Remember to review, and if you want to be a featured trainer, place it in the review along with your opinion.  The _Sapphire Prince_ is signing off…**


	2. Virgin Crushes

Love in the Flower Archipelago: Rosie's Love Life Written by the Sapphire Prince 

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**Author's Note:**

**          Hello.  In the last installment of L.F.A., Rosamunde Fierra made her debut.  She was invited to attend a royal dance, hosted by Her Majesty Queen Grace and His Highness Prince Burke, where she met her long-time companions, Rochelle and Hannah.  There was a significant amount of flirting at the ball and a few dances.  This is the day after the dance—there will be many references as to what happened in the ball in this chapter—**

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The First Chapter 

          The sun's gentle, yet sometimes harmful beams shone on Rosie's head, creating a sort of aura, or halo.  She basked in the warm weather with a straw hat mounted on her head.  Today was a day of recollection, of remembrance of the night last; and what a night it was!  

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          The Prince, who had grown rather flustered at the mere sight of his new acquaintance dancing with Mr. Skyler, decided to change the rules a tad.  Instead of waiting towards the end of the night in order to have a spotlight dance, he figured that in the middle of Rosie's dance was the most agreeable time.  Therefore, he waltzed up to the couple and promptly, yet carefully stole Rosamunde away from the gent.  This left Skyler very bewildered and a blush of resentment burned in his cheek.

          "Oh fair Rosamunde," he said in that suave tone of his, which he knew would melt anyone's heart.  It was the tone that he used when flirting and when entreating to his mother, Queen Louisa, who had abdicated the throne to her daughter, and to his sister, when he fancied another ball.  "I could not have waited much longer for your sweet hand.  It was such a slow, dreadful piece of music that time seemed to slow down to twice its normal rate."

          "Indeed you are a smooth talker, Prince Burke.  I am sure that you always get what you want," said Rosie.  She was getting at something.  She was trying to decipher his character.  First impressions are lasting and sometimes, the person receiving the impression will not dare give the other person a chance.

          "I do try, Miss Fierra, however, one can never get what they want, for as soon as they do, one wants something else: complete satisfaction is nearly impossible to achieve."

          All chances of finding him to be a snotty brat were diminished.  He was much _too_ smooth.  Rosie was compelled to let down her guard, for once.  When one is a pokemon trainer, he/she has to be constantly aloof, for there is always someone who is trying trick him/her.  She was open; prepared for what ever might come her way.

          "Yes, of course Prince Burke.  Nevertheless, you've treated Mr. Skyler so ill; I feel compassion for him and I regret losing his hand.  He was a splendid dancer: he is light on his feet, like myself."

          "I do not know how to reply to your comment, however, I will say that I deserve a chance."

          "As does any other gentlemen in this glorious hall Prince Burke.  I am certain that you feel more worthy because you're _royalty_; and we all know that the Prince must be satisfied regardless of the feelings of others."

          This stunned the Prince, yet he smirked.  "She is a feisty young woman indeed; I like it."  

          "You're sharp-tongued Miss Fierra.  You hold your tongue for not one decent soul."

          "Not entirely correct, sir, for I do endeavor to stay civil but with some people, it is highly inconceivable."

          "Am I one of those people, mademoiselle?"

          "You're beginning to become one, monsieur," Rosie said as she broke away from him in the middle of the dance and returned to her seat, where Ellie and Dew were waiting patiently, along with her ladies.

          "Rosie, the Prince appears to be quite crestfallen!  How could this be?"  Hannah asked this.

          "It was my doing Hannah.  It was my duty to set him in his place; nonetheless, I sense that the effect will not last for much longer.  He's so determined to woo me."

          "Will you be had by anyone, my friend?" asked Rochelle.

          "Only time will tell—"

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          "Rosamunde, you have a visitor.  I believe that his name is Mr. Frederic Skyler," said her mother from the door, which led to the deck where Rosie lay.  Rosie propped herself up and smoothed the front of her thin, printed-cotton frock.  

          She had not heard of the man since she was taken away from him.  She was ready to make amends for the Prince's wrongdoings.  Hopefully he would accept the appeals and they could strengthen their acquaintance.

          Seconds later, the tall man walked onto the deck, where Rosie appropriately stood and curtseyed as custom urged, before she greeted him.

          "Hello Skyler, what brings you to Rosewood on this fine day?"

          He blushed.

          Rosie knew not how to take this; perhaps it was the heat for it was quite tepid outside.  However, this would make a bad inference because Skyler already had a healthy, bronze tone about his skin.  Rosie dismissed it.

          "I am come in order to invite you to come dine with my family and I tomorrow night Miss Fierra," he said as evenly as he could; he was careful not to show his distress: he was rather timid.

          Rosie was surprised.  Why would Mr. Skyler invite her to dinner after such a limited acquaintance last night?  Maybe it was out of the decency of his heart and the kindness of his character.

          "I'm obliged," she accepted.  What harm could there be in accepting his generous offer.  If his family was anything like himself then they were sure to be good-natured people.

          "All is well."

          "Have you any siblings?"

          "I have a sister, her name is Charlene.  She is a remarkable young lady I assure you."

          "If she obtains the least bit of your civility then she is already high in my opinion."

          Reader, I am sure that you can figure out what ensued after this compliment.

          Rosie stared at him with a sideways look, however, she checked herself rather quickly.  She decided to ask him about his profession: his livelihood.

          "You walk with an admirable stiffness yet you also walk with a commendable flexibility.  Be you in the army or perhaps in the navy, or a pokemon trainer?"

          He smiled as he said, "I train pokemon; in addition to that I do participate in the Florien Navy."

          "I should have noticed that you were in the Navy by that handsome cobalt blue and green jacket that you're wearing right now.  It fits you nicely."

          "Thank you Miss Fierra—" he began but was cut off by Rosie's ejaculation, "do call me Rosie!"

          "I will."

          "Well," she said, "what pokemon do you have.  Are they fine specimens?"

          "In my opinion they are.  I have an Umbreon named Midnight and a couple of Nidoran as well as some others.  I noticed an Aipom sitting in your lap along with an Azumarril."

          "Oh, you're referring to Lady Eleanor and Sir Dew."  Then, Rosie, suddenly filled with a competitive urge said, "I challenge you to a duel Skyler."

          He was surprised.  "Are there any circumstances that must be met upon winning the match?"

          "That would be wonderful.  What will they be?"

          "If _I_ win, then you will have to call on my family every day for a week," said Skyler.

          "And if _I _lose then you will have to call on me every day for two weeks," said Rosie, slyly.

          "That's not fair."

          "You seem afraid of losing, my friend."

          "I am not."

          "Prove it then."

          "I will."

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          Rosie pulled delicately touched the spheres that were strung unto her pokemon necklace.  The balls were much smaller back then, however, this caused no discomfort for the pokemon themselves.  It was much more convenient for the trainers.

          "How many pokemon shall we use?"

          "Three-on-three will do me quite fine," said Rosie.  She took off her straw hat and shook her head; her long hair waved in the wind, falling down to her backside.  Skyler stood there mesmerized by her beauty but he quickly reprimanded himself so that he would not show his feelings.  

          "I'll choose first then.  I choose you Midnight."  Mr. Skyler threw the sphere, which opened, thus allowing a scarlet beam of energy to pervade; therefore permitting the beam to take shape into a living, breathing animal of incredible strength.  Midnight was a large pokemon, with bright yellow bands that illuminated his obsidian fur; his fiery eyes scanned the area, taking in his surroundings, analyzing how he could use it to his advantage.

          "He's a handsome creature."

          "Thank you Rosie."

          "Eleanor," Rosie called, "I need your assistance."  Seconds later, a bluish blur was seen and the small ape-pokemon stood ready, waiting for her orders.

          "Use a quick attack," said Skyler.  

          Midnight snarled and used his legs as a springboard in order to pounce on Ellie, however, he came to no avail, for Ellie was extremely fast.  The inertia that was produce made him skid across the ground.  He hopped up as soon as he could.

          "Use a mega punch!"

          Ellie leapt from place to place, hoping to psyche out her opponent with her fancy footwork.  Midnight stood there; his eyes darted to-and-fro.  Nevertheless, he was caught off-guard and was knocked down by Eleanor's tight fist.  He was hurled into the air by the force of the blow.

          "Now stomp him."

          Ellie leapt into the air and with a glowing foot did she stomp him to the ground while he himself was still airborne.  He groaned in pain.

          "Use a slash attack."

          With glowing claws did he swing at the ape but he missed his target.  Ellie evaded the attack and countered it with a tail whip, which made him flip onto his side in defeat.  Eleanor cheered with her trainer, who proudly scooped her into her arms.

          "You tried your best Midnight," Skyler said with a placid smile, "now take a good rest."

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          "Which pokemon shall you choose now Skyler?" asked Rosamunde as she patted her friend's head proudly.  Eleanor never let her trainer down before and one could be certain that she never will: she has an unchanging loyalty for her trainer that will never change, regardless of what time era that they find themselves in.

          "You will see Miss Rosamunde, you will see.  I choose you Samuel," he shouts as he throws a small sphere in the air.  It opens and dispels a large Nidoking with burgundy armor and green ears and large, shiny black eyes, that were full of one emotion: eagerness.  He roared and pounded his chest in order to make himself prepared.

          Rosie could obviously see that this pokemon had a lot of experience; therefore, she would need someone who was powerful, yet agile also.  She had just the right pokemon.

          "I choose you Sir Crimson," she said as the small fox appeared on the battlefield.  His fawn hide shined in health and his sapphire eyes sparkled in joy and he rested on his haunches: he was ready.

          "Do not you think that this is a severe handicap Rosie?  I am afraid for your pokemon," asked Skyler with a caring countenance.  Safety for the pokemon was also his first priority.

          "You can handle it, am I correct in my assumptions Crimson?"

          Crimson looked up at his trainer and his eyes smiled, I am certain that I can Rosie.  You can count on me to get the job done. 

          "That is what I thought," said Rosie, "Crimson is very reliable in the battlefield.  I know what his limitations are."

          "You talk to him as if you can comprehend his language," said Skyler with an amazed expression.  She could not really communicate with her pokemon vocally, could she?

          "I can."

          "Let us start things off with an agility attack, Crimson," Rosie said.

          Like a diving board did Crimson leap to his feet, running here and there looking as he teleported at some points, but it was really caused the intensity of his speed; Nidoking staid calm though.  His eye glinted and with a swing of his massive tail, Crimson found himself skidding across the ground but he firmly pressed down his paw in order to refrain from doing so.

          "Good work Crimson, use your flamethrower!"

           The inferno within, in his internal fire sacs, was released in a massive line of fire.  Nidoking held his arms in front of his face to ward off the flames, the blazing flames that could cause to destruction to any forest.

          "Use a tackle attack."

          With lightning speed did the beast ram himself into the small pokemon, causing him get flung into the air once more.  He winced in pain.

          "Can you take anymore pain my love?"

          I can. 

          "You've had enough Crimson," she concluded, much to Crimson's dismay, "take a good rest," said Rosie as she recalled him back to his ball.  She took pride in knowing her pokemon's limitations.  It was a good feeling that she knew that she had an edge over some of the other trainers, however, she was not arrogant with it.  That is highly unfeminine in her society; on the contrary, it is highly improper for _anyone_ to show arrogance, however, with men and people of high social standing, it was usually excused. 

          "You know your pokemon well.  I can see why you were able to win the 

--League.  Do you wish to continue?" asked Frederic as he patted his friend on the head.  Frederic was about four inches taller than his first pokemon, who was about five feet and eleven inches; he had long, chestnut brown hair that was at his shoulders, it curled at the ends, and his irises were gray, like slate or the most varied granite, a tinge of amber was inconspicuous unless you were gazing deeply into his eyes: they were enchanting.

          Then, Rosie went through a small revelation.  She realized that this pokemon battle was rather pointless.  She said, "let us forget about this battle Skyler.  It is pointless.  I would love to visit you anytime.  You don't have to beat me in order to make me do so."

          "Really?"

          "Yes."

          The two young adults smiled.  One smiled out of civility and courtesy and kindness while the other smiled in ecstasy and in pure delight.  One can be sure of what ensued—

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          Mr. Skyler is an incredible trainer Mommy; do not you think so?  I sure do.  I would have taken pleasure in fighting one of his pokemon, said Dew.

          Rosamunde looked at the blue aqua-rabbit with a cheerful smile on her face.  "He is talented indeed.  Dew," she said in that maternal tone of hers that she often acquired when giving advice to her pokemon, "fighting and having a pokemon battle are two different things.  When one is in a pokemon battle, one uses a strategy and is trying to win without inflicting too much pain.  When one if fighting, it is spontaneous and sloppy and one tries to inflict superior pain in a short time; keep that in mind dear."

          "I will Momma," he said in a mock British tone, which caused her to laugh contentedly.

          A knock was heard and shortly after, with an approval of entrance by Rosie, did Mrs. Fierra make an entrance with a smile implanted on her slender, gracefully curved face.  She was in her early forties indeed, however, beauty persevered for a long time on her side of the family.  Her eye was like the ocean near the shore: teal and it shimmered.  Her rosy hair was in a long braid, the way she wore it after dinner, and it shined too.  One could clearly see that the two were related.

          "Hello Mother, what brings you to my chamber?"

          "I am come to inquire about your engagement tomorrow night.  Do you still wish to go?" asked her mother as she made a seat for herself in an armchair with oriental designs.

          "Indeed."

          "That is well," she said.  Then in a deep tone did she say, "I could not help but overhear the fact that you would feel obliged to call on him every day."

          "You're correct Mother," said her daughter, not catching on to the fact that a series of exchanges were sure to follow.  She continued to brush her hair.

          "Am I right in assuming that you intend to form an attachment with Mr. Skyler."

          "Oh yes!  I heartily want to meet his family."

          "My friends have told me that he is not really a member of their family."

          "Oh really?  Tell me more," said Rosie, who was quite interested as of then. 

          "Yes.  They told me that they adopted him when his parents died in a boating accident.  I believe it was on the ocean liner called the _Sainte-Genevieve-des-Fleurs _when he and his sister were just a year old: they're twins."

          "How sad that is Mother.  I am sorry for him," said Rosie with a downcast expression.  "Do you think that his aunt and uncle had ever told him?"

          "No.  They do bear a striking resemblance though," said Mrs. Fierra.  "He's such a handsome young man; I am certain that he would make an agreeable husband."

          "Me too."

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          The evening next Rosamunde decided to wear a soft, teal dress that was made of a crepe-material that showed her elegant shoulders and a small amount of cleavage, much to her father's dismay.  Part of her hair was pulled back into a long braid that was rolled into a coil at the back of her head and two silver butterfly combs were in the front; the remainder of her hair fell down to her back. 

          Eleanor and her other pokemon were to remain at home until she came returned.  Rosamunde decided that it was a completely human affair and that her pokemon might feel left out.  The pokemon were sad and angry and pleaded until she eventually gave in after the pokemon convinced her that Skyler _does _have pokemon and they could speak amongst themselves.  

          The chaise arrived minutes after her Nidoqueen, Lady Elizabeth, placed it on her.  She was coming too, after learning that there were other pokemon of her species.  Her father helped Rosie into the chaise and then she was off; down the cobblestone roads did she go until she arrived at Sandalwood, the name of his parents' estate.  It has gently sloping land with neatly carved terraces, the hedges were nicely trimmed and there was a small fountain in front of the house that spewed out the water through a pretty Seadra.  

          A servant met her at the door and she was escorted into the drawing room where everyone sat.  They stood politely upon her arrival; the women curtseyed and the men bowed.

          "Hello Miss Fierra," said Mrs. Skyler, "good evening!"  Then she walked over and curtseyed once more while Rosie did the same.  "Hello, Mrs. Skyler," Rosie replied as she curtseyed.

          "Good evening Miss Fierra," said Mr. Skyler in a baritone voice, much like that of Skyler, as he kissed her hand.  She smiled graciously.  

          Then, Miss Skyler sauntered up.  Her beauty enthralled Rosie: she had long, auburn hair, more brown than red, which was pulled into a queue that fell down her back.  Her cheekbones were high and tinged with mauve and her eyes were stony like her brother's.  

          "It is a pleasure to meet you Miss Fierra," she said with a sweet smile, "I have heard much about you.  My name is Charlene."  They curtseyed to one another.  _She seems to be a sweet girl_, thought Rosie.

          Finally, Skyler shyly walked over to her and greeted her and nervously kissed her hand.  He indulged in the kiss, but Rosie was left unaware of his intensity, while the others noticed that it was longer than what was proper.  He was handsome that night, with his hair slicked back and instead of being attired in his Navy coat; he wore a crisp, white shirt with a black vest and bowtie.

          "I hope that you are hungry Miss Fierra, for I prepared a three-course meal.  We will have stuffed mushrooms as appetizers, then a chicken and spinach casserole as a main dish, and ice cream sundaes for breakfast," said Mrs. Skyler.  

          "I am not sure how I keep up my figure when Mom cooks so much food.  She makes enough for the entire Navy," said Charlene.

          "I agree."

          "So Rosie," said Mr. Skyler, "what do you do to keep up your figure?"

          "I am a pokemon trainer like your son," said Rosie uneasily, she hesitated when she mentioned Skyler as his son.  The married couple exchanged glances.

          "Oh really?" he asked.  "What a joy to hear a female pokemon trainer at such a time as this.  Surely you had male companions."

          "Only an eight year old and my girlfriends," Rosie admitted, "men are nice to have around, indeed, but they're not a necessity."

          Charlene giggled in agreement and said, "They can be a nuisance also."

          "You're independent; that is such an affable quality for a young woman to have: it's so progressive.  Women should be recognized as human beings that do not need to be safeguarded," said Mrs. Skyler.  "I am proud to say that our Queen Grace is a wonderful activist/feminist."

          The doorman walked into the room and announced, "Mr. Chadwick Jones is here."

          All eyes turned upon him as he entered the room.  Charlene practically melted in her seat because she blushed so rapidly.  _Wow, it is the pianist.  He's such a beau_—

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          **The entrance of the illustrious Chadwick Jones marks the conclusion of this chapter.  What will happen in the next chapter?  The next chapter will end the night.  Does Miss Skyler have feelings for the pronounced "beau"?  You will see in the next chapter of Love in the Flower Archipelago: Rosie's Love Life!  Please review!**


	3. Something Beneficial

Love in the Flower Archipelago: Rosie's Love Life

Written by the Sapphire Prince

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Previously on L. F. A:

The gentle creature, Mr. Skyler, called on Miss Rosamunde Fierra. The two participated in a pokemon battle where no winner was determined. He cordially invited our heroine to his home at Sandalwood, a handsome estate where she became acquainted with the lovely Miss Charlene and his aunt and uncle. While talking about politics, a doorman announced that Mr. Chadwick Jones had just arrived. Then, the mysterious young man made his debut...

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Chapter Two

Silence¾this is what was displayed in the room as the tall man stood in the doorway. Everyone who happened to be sitting stood up in respect, as custom urges, and the men bowed as the ladies curtseyed. Then, Mr. Jones himself bowed in acknowledgement to their gestures and was promptly seated in the chair beside Skyler.

Mr. Jones looked at his hosts and hostesses and smiled a slight, wintry smile. It was a cool smile. An icy smile. It did reveal any of his personality to be sure, however, it made it seem as though he were hiding something. He decided to speak; therefore, he said, "good evening to you all. How are you all fairing on this beautiful evening?"

"Fine," they all replied.

"It is truly a pleasure that you have decided to dine with us Mr. Jones. With you being so busy, I am rather delighted that you've decided to take some time in order to spend it with us. Have you any previous engagements?" asked Mrs. Skyler with a polite smile and raising of her arched eyebrows.

"None that were too important to be sure. It was a trifle; only a visit to the Somerset Palace on Passion Fruit Island with her Majesty and Prince Burke, which I could visit the next time that they go," said Mr. Jones after placing his glass onto the white tablecloth. 

"Ah," said Mr. Skyler, "I understand."

A butler came into the room with a tray full of covered metal dishes and placed them in front of each person. Then, in a chain reaction did each person uncover the lid that revealed the appetizer. Each person ate them steadily, not too quick yet not dreadfully slow. 

"Do tell me Mr. Jones," said Charlene after placing a silver fork onto the side of the decorated china plate, "when have you last performed for an audience?"

Mr. Jones looked over at Charlene. No feeling could be traced in his eyes much to her dismay, for she had loved him for many days, which amounts to weeks, that amounts to months, and ends at perhaps a year. Yes! She had loved him for a little more than a year and she received no signal that he felt the same feeling as she: love, complete and utter admiration. The type of love she felt was the love that oh so many people pray for when they marry. 

"I performed at the Pump Room at Coconut Square just last night Miss Skyler," he said civilly.

"I am certain that you played excellently, just as you always do," she said with a flirtatious grin. Charlene figured that if she flirted with him and emphasized all of those things which are intended to make men go mad—in example: the batting of one's eyes, one's figure, one's smile, one's elasticity in her step—then, Chadwick would notice her more.

And why, you must be wondering, is our heroine not saying anything. I wonder...perhaps she is mesmerized by this pronounced "beau" or she is busy observing the behavior of the others, without taking heed to her own. The latter would be the most correct for she had decided right then and there that she would no longer be interested in Mr. Jones because she hoped that she could be Charlene's friend: a confidante. What Rosamunde did not take heed to is the fact that she had a large smile on her face and that her cheeks were tinged with scarlet, like the way a red liquid is when it is in water: gradually filling the space up with its color. Charlene noticed and her heart panged with anger and jealousy; over what, one cannot be sure but Charlene herself; love makes one act this way. 

"I presume that you must be Miss Rosamunde Fierra," said Mr. Jones, "my friend, Prince Burke has long since told me of you."

"I hope that what he has said about me were good things but I would not care nonetheless if they were not. The Prince is not exactly my cup of tea; his haughty behavior is very disagreeable."

Mr. Jones smiled as he said, "he told me of that also."

Letting her competitive nature take over her psyche Rosie looked up from her drink, narrowed her eyes, and a fiery tone was conspicuous in her voice when she asked, "Prince Burke told you of what? I am very eager to know." Then, while waiting for his response, she eyed her long, sharp fingernails that glistened in the light.

"He told me that you are a regular tigress, but that you are an interesting one indeed," he said with a deep chuckle. "I hope that that has not offended you, for I would not want to perish under the wrath of those claws."

Everyone laughed at his joke and Charlene laughed harder than the rest; however, nobody dared to stare at her for they knew why she acted this way.

Rosamunde giggled warm-heartedly. But in all actuality, she was fuming inside. He had gotten the best of her in spite of her attempt to stay cool, calm, and collected. This was just like the old days, while pokemon training: she would lose her temper and do something reckless, like slap someone. No matter how hard she tried, she just could not abandon her temper. It always found a way to resurface. But, this time she would just wear her smile as a shield or a mask. That way, nobody would know what was truly going happening.

"Many have," she joked, which made everyone laugh once more.

"Is there any news from the Queen about any new tournaments for the trainers? I am ready for another pokemon match; it would be a capital time indeed," said Skyler as he quickly changed the subject. He had witnessed what seemed to be flirting between two friends of his—one whom he had been friends with for a long time and one whom he ardently desired—and was not exactly happy that he had. 

Mr. Jones delicately rubbed the dark hairs on his strong chin in an effort to try to remember if he had, when suddenly his eyes brightened and he said, "in a fortnight there is supposed to be a tournament for the trainers of Coconut Island."

"And what ensues when one wins this match?" asked Mrs. Skyler.

"From what I can recall, I believe that there is a men's division and a women's division. Whoever happens to win will be granted to the title of a baron or a baroness, without the complications of marriage, for we all know that Queen Grace loves the idea of an independent woman."

Rosie gasped in excitement, for this is one of the things that she, along with a lot of other young girls, dreamed of. If she could not be a princess then she would gladly settle for being a baroness even if it happened to be the lowest rank in the nobility. _Oh! Lady Rosamunde...that has such a pleasant sound, or perhaps Lady Fierra—no! I like Lady Rosamunde much better, for my last name could change into something else at any moment._

"Are there any special specifications?" asked Rosie eagerly. 

"One must carry a fire type, a water type, and a grass type. Yes, those are the rules," he said. "Do you believe that you could win the title Miss Fierra and Miss Skyler?"

"Definitely," they both said at the exact same moment.

"I hope that you are a good pokemon duelist, for I am a formidable opponent in the ring," said Charlene with a smile. She had a hidden agenda implanted in her brain. She thought that if she could win the title, then she would look more worthy in Chadwick's eyes. 

"I do try my best at all times, for there is always a possibility for anyone to win a tournament. The chance of winning might differ from pokemon to pokemon, however, I prefer to think of the chance as always being 50%. For pokemon are very capable of turning the tables at any given moment," said Rosie.

"Well put Miss Fierra," Mr. Skyler exclaimed.

"I agree," said Mrs. Skyler.

"Do tell me this, what also comes with the title?" asked Skyler.

"There is a prize of about one 100,000 petals I believe—but one cannot be certain all of the time—"

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"I choose you Sparky," said Rosie as she threw out the magical sphere, which contained the vibrant Elekid. 

Sparky had never evolved. Although he was very close one time but he decided that he preferred to be a small Elekid than a "big" and "fat" Electabuzz that made those nasty grunts. His fur was yellow, like goldenrod, and he had black stripes, like coal; his eyes were green, like emeralds, and electricity sparked and crackled all around his body. His eyes were attentive; he appraised his opponent and looked for any possible weakness. 

The girl, of about fourteen, had a Wigglytuff that was already fuming to battle. Its aqua eyes were lit and its body inflated; the two small arms were poised like lethal weapons and there was an inconspicuous grumble: for it was ready to sing if necessary.

"Wiggly, do a double-slap attack!"

The pokemon leapt into action, creating a wave of slaps with those small arms. The intensity of the attack and the speed of his opponent surprised Sparky. He was slapped to the ground by Wigglytuff; however, by no means was he finished with. The game had just begun.

"Sparky, use thunder-shock!"

Sparky bounded back a few paces to escape the blows of the opponent. His plug-like head fizzled with energy and yellow electricity quickly touched the arms of the beast when it was blasted back a few feet. Electricity soared through its arms and it could do nothing but shriek in pain.

"Sing to it Wiggly; sing!" exclaimed the girl.

Unfortunately, Wiggly could not muster up the patience to sing for it was still much to perplexed about the former blow. It stuttered out notes and they were all flat and not at all beautiful or enchanting.

"We have this now my friend. Finish her off with a tackle attack!"

Sparky pawed at the ground before sprinting to his victim. He rammed it with all of his might in an effort to weaken it to the point at which it could battle no more. He succeeded. Wiggly cried in pain as it was lifted off the ground and it fell into her trainer's arms.

"Oh Wiggly," she cried, "you tried—you really did—but she's much to experienced for us. Let's go home now."

The loss not only affected the girl but Rosamunde also. A pang of guilt beat at her heart. Losing was incredibly disagreeable, especially when one's hopes are very high. Rosie said, "take this," as she produced a small brown capsule from her purse, "it is a potion capsule. It will heal your pokemon to good health, but it will not heal its spirit; that is your job."

"Thank you Miss," said the girl as she walked away, smiling. Advice should always be graciously accepted when it comes from a more experienced person.

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The tea was warm, yet cool. The fire was comforting, yet annoying. The candles were bright, yet dull. The atmosphere was not perfect, yet it was satisfactory. It could have been better but it wasn't. Luckily, Rosie had her friends and her pokemon as companions.

Rochelle and Hannah had all been invited to stay a day or so at Rosewood, for Hannah was soon to be sent back to Star fruit Island to be with her fiancé and his grandfather. They needed to make preparations for the wedding ceremony that was to take place in a matter of one month and Hannah was very excited and it was all that she could talk of.

"I am so happy," she said, "my Joshua is going to make the perfect husband."

It was Rochelle's and Rosie's humble duty as friends to do nothing but agree with her on the subject of _her_ Joshua; and they performed this duty rather well by saying things such as: "oh yes, I heartily agree," or, "I wish that I will have as great a fortune as you to meet a man like Joshua," or perhaps, "I am quite envious of your happiness".

"Yes," said Rika, "he shall."

"I hope that you'll meet someone like him Rosie. If only you were in love—it would be such a magical thing; do not you agree Rochelle?"

"I do. Yet, I also wish that I were in love with someone. Would that magical as well?" asked Rika in order to see Hannah's expression.

"To be sure."

"Why Rosamunde, do you not try to meet a variety of men, like Rochelle. This is the only way to find a husband, unless you were to have possessed the type of luck that has been bestowed on me."

"If it is meant to be then it shall happen regardless of whether I search for it by acting like a fool and flirting to my heart's content, or if my prince finds me first."

"How do you expect to find someone if you do not make an effort?"

"What is the rush," said Rosie with a shrug of her shoulders, "I am but twenty-two."

"Beauty in not eternal and so is fertility," said Hannah in a low voice.

"Fools are always the ones who fall in love," muttered Rosie, "mental 

beauty is eternal; but physical beauty is not. I want to be loved for my personality, my ability to love, and my intelligence: my _je ne sais quoi_. You make everything sound so superficial Hannah."

Hannah gasped in shock. "Your words sting very well Rosie. You know how to make someone feel bad—maybe that is your problem."

"My problem," said Rosie as she hopped off of her bed. Ellie gently leapt upon her shoulder and whispered, No. Rosie replied, "No, Ellie; I cannot. What problem?"

Hannah stood back up, for she never usually backed down from a confrontation also in spite of her delicate demeanor. "You are scared Rosie. You are scared of finding someone that you really might like and be able to love and who feels the same way."

"I am not," she heatedly replied.

"Yes; you are. And you do not want to face it. If you are not, then why do you pretend to not notice potential suitors when they call on you, be your acquaintance long or short?" 

"Skyler is _not a_ suitor, nor will he ever be one. He is just a friend from the University."

"How do you know?"

"I just do!" she yelled.

"Stop it," cried Rochelle while going in between them and pushing them away, "stop arguing over such nonsense. It's all petty and dumb. Accept it Hannah, love works in different ways and Rosie doesn't want your comments. It's hard enough hearing you ramble on and on about Joshua, so leave her alone. Come on, let's just leave her alone until tomorrow Hannah," and then, grabbing her, Rika pulled her out of the room and closed the door.

Rosie sighed and looked at Eleanor's large black eyes that were downcast. She snuffed out the candles and fell unto her bed. She cried...

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The next morning, Rosie decided to dedicate the day in bathing and grooming her pokemon. Therefore, she changed into her bathing suit, which was comparable to a modern one piece (A/N: the showing of a Florienne's legs was acceptable for swimming is very popular; but in places such as Johto and Kanto, it was absolutely forbidden). A large wooden tub was placed conveniently under a shady willow whose leave planted a light kiss on the surface of their private lake. She filled the tub with many gallons of the fresh water from the lake, which was amazingly clean and good enough to drink, and used a sweet smelling soap, made from coconut acids and fats along with many other moisturizers and exfoliates, to fill it with bubbles. White, soapy bubbles soon rose higher than the water itself and thanks to the convenience of a fire beneath, the water was just right: just a bit warmer than lukewarm.

Now Rosie owned many pokemon, which means that she would be doing a lot of filling and refilling, so she decided to diminish the usual time by one half; therefore, two pokemon at once would be adequate. First, there was, of course, Ellie and Dew, who were some of the smallest, and easiest, pokemon to wash; for Dew is a water pokemon, which basically means that he takes a bath whenever he swims. So, in other words, washing him was pointless, but it is one of those situations where someone did something for the sake of doing it. Next was Vanilla and Crimson, whom has grown quite immune to water due to the years of training, and so on and so forth until the only pokemon left was, Elizabeth, who was practically the largest, with Excalibur (?), the Scizor, being the largest. Once everyone was complete, she toweled him or her down with fluffy, white terry cloth until the each smelled fresh and they were each content.

"I have some news for you all," said Rosamunde as she pulled her loose hairs back into a messy ponytail. 

What is it? asked each of the pokemon. Most news was good news for them; however, some news was bad news. And the pokemon hoped dearly that it would be good news. Besides, who likes bad news?

"I am entering a tournament in about thirteen days."

What type of tournament? 

"A very important one that could possibly change my lifestyle and my future," she said.

The pokemon each looked at one another. This must be really good news they assumed, for Rosamunde had no gloomy tone, no shady look, and now unusual body movements. This is how the pokemon knew how their trainer was really feeling. Actions speak louder than words is what they learned to follow over the years. And Rosie is not the one to vocalize her troubles and her true feelings.

"The winners each earn a place in the Florien nobility: they each receive a baronetcy and possibly 100,000 petals!"

This is fabulous news! exclaimed Ellie, for she had not been present at the dinner table when Mr. Jones had mentioned this. She had been away, with her pokemon friends, enjoying the independence bestowed upon her by her trainer.

"I suppose that it is," she said, then with a pout she said "I am afraid of what it might make me become."

What ever could you mean? asked Dew.

"Money and a title can make a person's complaisance change rather drastically and I do not please to be a haughty individual. An individual whose sheer happiness is making the lives of the peoples of the lower classes a living hell!"

Hush Rosie! said Crimson. You have made many false and blind perceptions. Whatever led you to these conclusions should be vanquished from your mind completely, for they are wholly unsatisfactory. You should know that members of the Florien aristocracy are some of the most well-rounded, good-natured peoples in the world. We are not in another country or on Earth, where pride appears to allow people the right to torment others. No! We are in Flora on the planet of Celeste! And the term celestial means heavenly and beautiful and peaceful, which is what we Floriens and Floriennes are. As with any country, we have our disagreements with the other countries and we may have our battles, but we rarely kill. Think about it Rosamunde, if someone chooses to be proud, then that is his or her decision, which means that if _you_ became proud, then it would be because of _your_ decision! 

Everyone was amazed at Crimson's heartfelt speech. It was amazing and completely unexpected. It amazed Rosie the most and she realized how foolish she could be. Money doesn't force people to act a certain way. A person acts that way because he/she believes that it is just and expected of them. So when a person blames a petty objects for behaving their behavior, then they are wrong; for the only reason that they behaved that way is because they were weak enough to allow the object to change them: which is incredibly human. As a result, Rosamunde Fierra vowed, as of then, to not allow an inanimate entity to change her way of thinking, her morals, and most of all, her _je ne sais quoi_...

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So what is it that you gathered from this chapter? That Rosie is not such a super-being? That she has insecurities? That she is human just like everyone else and that she can make something out of nothing? It takes a long time for a person to reach mental maturity, whereas physical maturity can take place in thirteen years. —The Sapphire Prince

P.S.: Next on L.F.A: the battles begin! 


	4. A Baron and a Baroness

Love in the Flower Archipelago: Rosie's Love Life

Written by the Sapphire Prince

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Previously on L.F.A:

Rosamunde, while at the estate of the Skylers, finally met the somewhat taciturn Mr. Chadwick Jones. She decided that she would not even dare to like him for the sake of starting a friendship with Charlene, Skyler's twin sister. She also chose to participate in a tournament that determines which male and female will obtain a baronetcy, thus earning the title of Lady— or Sir—. Rosie however, is afraid of the consequences that might befall her. And after an inspirational speech from Crimson, the spunky and often outspoken Vulpix, Rosie realized that the only way to succeed is to control the object and to not let the object control her...

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A/N: I do not own pokemon, nor will I ever do so. And since I love the way the font Trebuchet MS looks in Italics on my PC, the chapters will be like this from now on. Thank you —The Sapphire Prince

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Chapter Three

It was the night before the grand tournament—aptly named the Aristocratic Matches—when Rosamunde awoke to a breezy morning, with Ellie and Dew beside her on the firm mattress underneath thin, white cotton sheets. They were sound asleep, for they had endured an adequate amount of training for the Matches. Each pokemon learned now maneuvers and such, however, Rosamunde focused more on the three key elements: fire, water, and grass. Hence, Lady Vanilla, a gentle Bayleef, Sir Dew, the adorable Azumarill, and Sir Crimson, the gallant Vulpix. Together, one might underestimate their extraordinary abilities, but anyone who knew Rosie, knew that none of her pokemon were pushovers. 

One might assume that Rosie was not a great trainer: one, because she's a young woman, which is trifling indeed, two, because she does not have a lot to choose from, and three, because many of them have not yet evolved. One must never do that, for pokemon are always full of surprises. 

Rosie stretched and she yawned. Hannah had since left for Star fruit Island and the ceremony was set to commence in less than a fortnight and in one se'enight (a week), Rosamunde was engaged to travel to the island and get fitted for her gown. The date was set for April 20th and Hannah babbled more than ever. Her letters only contained information of how perfect he was and how they're in the process of building an estate on his grandfather's land in order to keep a close watch on his health and mentality. She talked of how she's going to decorate and how she wants Rosamunde and Rochelle to visit after a week of matrimony. She talked of how she wished to have many children, how she wanted to name a girl Harmony. Such naivety disgusted Rosie and the thought of being married was enough to make her quake with fear.

Why was she so scared of a mutual attachment such as that? Or perhaps, was she scared of what followed after the attachment? Moreover, the circumstances she was to undergo on the first night of marital bliss? So many questions, no answers, only time will reveal.

She climbed from her bed and quickly did her toilette. She washed up and slipped on an afternoon frock. The only reason why she might change into an evening dress is if she were invited to attend some party; this she highly doubted, for many were still training, and she did not know if she could bear putting on another corset. Therefore, her frock was loose, and breezy, and, most of all, comfortable. Fortunately, she could wear her bloomers and her cotton shirt with the Mandarin collar tomorrow for the Aristocratic Matches.

After her toilette was complete, Rosie descended the staircase, after deciding that she'd better let her friends rest as long as they pleased, and walked into the breakfast room where her parents sat. Her father, in a pair of tweed slacks and a white shirt, and her mother, in an afternoon dress similar to her own, sat drinking on some chrysanthemum tea with a dose of peach blossom honey.

"Good morning mother and father" said Rosie as she took her seat, "how have you slept during the night?"

"Very well," said her father, "chamomile tea is a superb aid in sleeping. It is very delicious too. Your mother and I each drank a cup before lying down. It also makes one feel more exuberant in the morning, which is just what people of our age need. The chrysanthemum tea is more of a treat than anything else is, for it goes well with the wild blueberry scones that your mother prepared. Silly me, I was not knowledgeable of the fact that a great blueberry bush grows just beyond the window near the kitchen. That explains why I see so many Pidgey and Rattata gathered around here. One time, I was so fed up that I felt like capturing a Pidgey in order to raise its level so that it'd evolve into a Pidgeotto that could deliver business flyers."

"Wow," Rosie thought. "He really is exuberant. I can't recall when was the time last when I heard him speak so much." 

"Oh," said her mother, "I heartily agree with your father's statements. Chamomile is superb; I intend on drinking it every night until the day that I die to be sure. Oh! Yes! And I'll drink chrysanthemum tea every morning also, if I can help it—such a pleasant treat! These scones are fabulous, I must say. Do not you think so dear?" 

"Indeed," Rosie said, for she realized that not just one, but both of her parents were rather...hyper, if the situation calls for that word, and she did not feel like listening to such rambling over nothing. She had had enough while Hannah was there.

"You seem excited today about the Matches tomorrow," said Mrs. Fierra, "I hope that you are prepared, for the competition will be tough."

"Myself," Rosie said with wide eyes, and pointing to herself, "excited? I never considered myself to be that way. I grew out of that a long time ago, for excitement usually turns into nervousness within a few hours: like a metamorphosis."

"Well put," said Mr. Fierra, "well put my daughter." Then, he sipped his tea once more and smiled at the sweet taste. His deep blue eyes sparkled in happiness, and his dark red hair, his ginger colored hair, was neatly combed, for he was an early bird, and, if Rosie knew him well enough, he had awoke more than two hours ago and performed his toilette. Usually, while waiting the interval of an hour for his wife to rise, he would do what was formally mentioned, and go on a pleasant promenade about Rosewood for a half-hour. Once mother was up, he helped her prepare breakfast, unless the items were scones, yet even then he would still measure the ingredients. She mixed.

Sometimes, Rosamunde would survey her parents' lifestyle and their general behavior towards each other. They helped one another, they talked to each other, they had triplets almost half of a decade ago, and they still slept in the same room and in the same bed, which few couples did once they became older; they still kissed too. If this is what marriage is, then this is what Rosie would want to be a part of. But she had seen spoiled marriages; like that of Rochelle's parents. Her mother fled from her husband's grasp when she was just twenty, one year after they had married, with Rika still as an infant, to Autumn Island, where they live alone, in a small cottage called Ivy Cottage, without any financial aid from her husband. This compelled her to take up a job as a seamstress in order to support her child. She never found nuptial love again, and she's been sewing since. And if it matters, in Rosie's opinion, Mrs. Carlyle made the best gowns in all of Flora! All of her gowns were ordered from her or made by Rosie herself, for she knows the art. Rochelle would be competing in this tournament, and more than herself, Rosie knew that she deserved the prize more than anyone else. 

"Have you heard any news about my brothers and my sister? I miss their presences very much," asked Rosie.

"Yes, indeed. They are to arrive later on this evening with Peony and her husband. They are to reside with us for a se'enight. Peony claims to have such a grand surprise to show us. I wonder what it is," said Mrs. Fierra, with a pensive look that quickly turned into a smile, "I do miss my babies. Such trouble I went through in bearing them. Three at once! I felt like strangling your father!"

"Thank God that you did not," he said with a hearty chuckle.

"I can't wait until I see them. I had been working on a frock for Rosalynne. It has teddy bear on it and it's in a sky blue. All that I have to do is apply lace to the cuffs; which reminds me that I have to go in town today, to the milliner's shop and to a few others. Which also means that I'll need to use Dasher, your stallion, father."

"I suppose that you can," said Mr. Fierra with an air of uncertainty.

"Father," she said as she rose from her seat, "I can handle him."

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So Rosamunde went into town. She went inside of the milliner's shop, where she purchased some pretty white lace and a hat for herself, a small tan hat that was worn tilted to the side, and a pair of golden pins with colored flowers on it. It cost her about thirty-four petals, which is about seventeen dollars in American, which was a lot of money in those days. After that, she went to a pokemon store, where she bought each of her pokemon a collar with their names engraved in silver upon it, which cost another fifty petals and twenty-seven seeds. Afterwards, she went home, enjoying the cool breeze as Dasher galloped along the dirt roads, which led to Rosewood...

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By the time that Rosamunde arrived at the estate, the children were already there. They greeted her eagerly with showers of hugs and kisses but Evan, being the prankster that he was, tried to hold off. But he could not resist the urge and he hugged her more than Julian and Rosalynne.

"I missed you Rosie," he said as he jumped up and down, still a child in every way.

"We missed you Rosie," said Rosalynne, always the one to prevent conflict of any sort by correcting Evan, for he and Julian bickered and fought at least one a day but on a good weeks, there would be only two fights. Rosalynne was the peacemaker.

"I've missed you all."

Subsequently, her Aunt Peony and Uncle George, the McDermotts, each came up to her and hugged her.

"You've grown much more," said Aunt Peony, "that was supposed to end years ago," she giggled as she sized her up, noticing how much more beautiful than the time last she saw her. "You've bloomed once again. You are much prettier than your mother when she was nineteen, for she was married on her anniversary."

Mrs. Fierra groaned and said, "that may be true, but I was still pretty nonetheless."

"I agree," said her husband and they each laughed.

Although Rosie was very much like her mother in appearance, she was even closer to Mrs. McDermott, and this made the two women seem like sisters, for Peony was the youngest at just twenty-eight years of age, whereas Mrs. Fierra was the eldest at forty-two, for she was married early. Mr. Fierra was just forty-six.

"What is that grand surprise of yours sister? I am rather anxious to know."

Mrs. and Mr. McDermott looked at one another and grinned and she said to Rosie and her mother, "feel." The pair looked at one another and gently touched her belly. The soft swelling and roundness of pregnancy was inconspicuous to the naked eye, for Peony had been wearing a loose gown under a thick riding coat, but to the naked hand, it was anything but inconspicuous. The women shrieked out in merriment, for this child was to be her firstborn, the precious firstborn which all parents marvel, as well as the second or the third. Families were large back then.

"How long has it been?" asked Mrs. Fierra.

"My first symptoms began more than eight months ago. What a joyous occasion; I was so surprised; and I was so sick. It's a weird feeling—the thought of knowing that another human being is growing in side of you—which reminds me that I want you to stay with us Rosamunde until a month after our baby is born. What do you say to this offer? We would greatly appreciate it."

Rosie thought for a while. This was her aunt—her favorite one at that— and this was her first child, which means that it was extra special for her. How could she resist? It would be good to have a change of scenery: a different atmosphere.

"Yes! I will leave after you leave."

"That is just capital," she said while clasping her hands together. Then, a flash of pain soared through her body and she clutched her belly. "Oh," she groaned, "the baby just kicked."

Rosie smiled.

"Why did not you tell us?"

"I wanted it to be a surprise."

"It was more than eight months."

"I know."

"Due to the fact that we were unable to see that you were carrying, I believe that your baby girl is very small."

"A girl," the McDermotts cried. "How do you know?"

Mrs. Fierra embraced her own daughter and said, "I have my ways." She kissed her on her rosy cheek.

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A/N: It is now the next day, at the Matches, in the heart of Coconut Island, at the Cocoa Stadium.

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Her Royal Highness and Prince Burke stood side by side. The Queen had just given her speech, or rather, the procession to the highly anticipated Aristocratic Matches that were to take place in a matter of minutes. 

"There are eight participants in both the male and female divisions that are going to be separated into two subdivisions: Subdivision A and Subdivision B. After a winner is determined from each subdivision, the two men and women will duel one another in the final battle. The names and pictures of the people participating in the tournament are in the programs—let the Matches begin!"

The crowd erupted in applause and the participants were ushered into the stadium, where they had the honor of sitting next to the Queen and the Prince. Rika sat next to Rosie, (they had joined one another early that morning) who sat next to the Queen. All of the Floriennes sat next to her Majesty while the Floriens sat beside the Prince. Rosie was eager to be sitting next to her and to behold her splendor and beauty.

The Queen, with her silver coronet, pink bloomers and white duster with pearls at the cuffs, slightly leaned over and whispered into Rosie's ear; "I am quite knowledgeable of the fact that my brother has taken a fancy towards you."

Rosie gasped. She had not known that the prince felt for her in that way. She had thought that he was just being charming and flirtatious: that he was always that way towards any handsome young woman. But obviously, she was mistaken. No wonder why he was so crestfallen when she left him after that brief quarrel. But mainly, she was happy just to be speaking to the Queen.

"Perhaps you are mistaken my Queen, for I did not discern that his language and his gestures were any different when directed towards myself than what they were when directed towards other women," she said.

"Indeed I am not, for I am his especial confidante when it comes to matters of the heart, or more importantly, of the mind, for the heart is what many people confuse with the mind because the mind tells a person is in love with someone else."

"That it true my Queen, but I am sure that it is just an infatuation. I am just the child of a gentleman and a gentlewoman, would not a marriage between someone of my caliber and someone of his caliber be unlawful and unjust?"

"No, to be sure. Love is love, situation does not matter," the Queen said, "this is what I believe."

"And what you believe in is just my Queen, but all of the feelings that I might have had for your brother the Prince have been vanquished for he proved to me that he is used to having his way with anything and anyone."

"Yes, he is a superficial brat at times, but he is very caring, and he has the capacity to love one faithfully and without hesitation."

"I hope that he finds that person in the future."

The Queen marveled at her companion's stubbornness and said, "I like your way of thinking Miss Fierra. A woman that can deny a prince's love is a great woman in my eyes. It means that you are not there for the money or the rank of being a princess or possibly a queen. I admire you."

Rosamunde looked at her friend, who was listening intently and she said to the queen, "if you admire the way I think, then you would love my special companion, Miss Rochelle Carlyle. She is an excellent painter and an extraordinary person." Rika smiled and bowed her head. The Queen smiled sweetly.

The Prince looked over at Rosie, smiled that gorgeous smile of his, and then looked at Rochelle and gave her an even better one. If this was meant to make Rosamunde envious of her best friend, then he was utterly mistaken. Instead, Rosie returned his smile with a polite grin.

"Well, Miss Fierra, I believe that you will start off Subdivision A and that you Miss Carlyle will begin Subdivision B. Good luck to the both of you," said the Queen with a wave.

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Rosie meandered her way down to one of the four arenas inside of the Cocoa Stadium. The arenas themselves were made out of gray concrete that was roughly sanded in order to produce a relatively smooth surface in order to prevent the pokemon from hurting themselves. Her parents and her siblings and the McDermotts were each in the Subdivision A section and they cheered for her as well as for Rika, whose mother sat contentedly beside Mrs. McDermott.

Rosie's name was announced as well as her opponent's, whose name was Michelle Austin; she was a short young woman, with short green hair and green eyes, as green as freshly cut grass on a midsummer's day. She clutched her spheres: ready to battle.

"First," said the announcer, "there will be a fire battle. Each woman shall through out her pokemon and none will be returned. Once one can battle no longer, all pokemon will be returned and a new element will be called hence. Ladies, begin."

Miss Austin threw out the sphere and with a small clicking noise did a small pokemon very similar to her own appear. Why, it was another Vulpix much to Rosie's surprise.

"I choose you Sir Crimson," she yelled as she pitched the ball and her fawn, cream, and crimson colored Vulpix erupted from his home, inside of the pokeball.

Would you look at that! There is another member of my kind Rosie. I have not fought another Vulpix since I was with my siblings last. This should be quite entertaining, Crimson said with a grin.

"Have fun."

"Austin," said Michelle, "go! Tackle him."

The normal colored pokemon ran down the arena straight towards Crimson. What a large mistake she had just committed! Rosie said, "quick! Use you skull bash attack."

Right! Then, Crimson took off; his nose turned a blinding white, as did his paws, as he gained momentum. He met his component in the middle of the ring; he crashed into him with all of his might. The opponent was lifted into the air and he shrieked as he crashed to the ground. The pokemon had not recovered from the tremendous blow and it fell to the ground in defeat. Rosie assumed that he must not have been at as high a level as Crimson.

"Miss Fierra wins the round with a flawless victory. The next element is going to be grass; which pokemon will the ladies choose?"

"Great job Crimson," she said, "take a break."

"Rest my dear; you have done well," said Michelle. She smiled at Rosie as she threw out a large Victreebel. She appeared to be confident that she could win this round.

"It is your turn my friend," said Rosie as her first pokemon was dispelled from the pokeball. Lady Vanilla had not evolved into a Meganium; however, she was still a large Bayleef nevertheless. She still possessed that air of sweetness that Rosie adored and she was still formidable in the ring.

Rosie briefly overheard the announcer say, "Miss Carlyle has won her first match and what a stunning victory it was!"

'Wow,' Rosamunde thought, 'she must have been training very hard over the past two weeks. I hope that I will have a chance to battle her in the end!'

"Use the razor leaves."

Victreebel cocked back and let loose a quintet of pointed leaves at her opponent. Rosie did not have to tell Vanilla that she should dodge it, for it was only common sense. She was quite baffled as to why trainers have to tell their pokemon to move out the way; it is an insensible thing to do.

"Good moving," she congratulated her, "now use your vines and slam it to the ground."

Vanilla galloped as she launched her supple green vines, which were bright green because Rosie kept her well watered and gave her a lot of cacti, for they are full of water and essential nutrients. The wind created during the gallop blew the bitten leaf atop her head and a fierce smirk was visible on her face. The vines latched onto Victreebel and Vanilla continued to run until she stopped and ducked her head. The inertia forced the flytrap pokemon to skid across the ground.

"Quickly, do a body slam!"

With a gallant bellow did her Bayleef heave its girth upon the flytrap, causing it to scream out in pain.

"Return!" cried the girl as she wiped her tears onto her sleeve.

"Miss Fierra has won the match!"

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Everything turned out just as Rosie wished and Rochelle, her best friend, was to fight her in a matter of moments. They stood side by side in the comfort of a sculpted alcove that they were to walk through when they were called for.

"I have never had the pleasure of having a pokemon duel with you my friend," said Rosie with a rueful smile planted on her face.

"I know; it is a pity that our paths never crossed in this before. I do have an advantage though," said Rochelle.

"And what may that be?"

"I know of every single pokemon that you call your own and you only know of two of mine."

"If you count that as an advantage then do whatever pleases you."

"No, you do not seem to comprehend what I am saying. Since I knew which pokemon you would be using, I trained my pokemon accordingly. And it all seems to be working out fabulously."

"Now that you've enlightened me to this fact, I will be on my guard."

"Good," she said, "that is all that I wanted." Rochelle was serious. She wanted this match to be great. She wanted to earn her right of being a lady and of earning all of the petals. And through Rosie was the best way possible.

"I believe that Skyler and Mr. Jones are to battle one another for the baronetcy as well. It is a shame that I will not be able to see the battle," said Rosie.

"Would Misses Rosamunde Fierra and Rochelle Carlyle along with Misters Skyler and Jones please enter the selected arenas," said the announcer.

With these words, the two young men jogged up to the ladies, each in a light pair of slacks and a white shirt, and bowed, saying that "we are to escort you into the arena." Quickly did Skyler try to take Rosie's arm, but he was unsuccessful, for Mr. Jones had already beaten him to it. He sulked silently as he settled with Rika's arm. They all greeted one another cheerfully, except Skyler, for he had suddenly become moody much to Rika's dismay. The men dropped the ladies off to their arena and hurried off to their own. The crowd cheered and everything was ready...

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"The element for this final round will be that of the water element—begin!"

"I choose you Dew!"

"Go Albert!" exclaimed Rochelle as a cute alligator pokemon appeared in the middle of the ring. It jumped into the air and waddled and jigged and did everything to show that it was happy. 

Dew smiled as he stared at his opponent after deciding that he would be a fun playmate, like Mrs. Fierra's pokemon, Darwin, who was still alive after all of these many years.

"Use the water gun attack," said Rosie.

"You too Albert!"

Canons of water cascaded out of each pokemon's mouth and soared to the median point where the water collided and shot upwards into the air, causing a downpour to shower upon the audience. Right then and there did Rosie decide that this match was not going to be easy, for Dew could usually overpower any water attack with his own.

"Bounce and use a tackle attack!"

Dew curled into a ball as best as he could and bounced on the ground, getting closer to the fleeing Totodile all the while. He connected once and the alligator was pushed to the ground.

"Use a head-butt!"

When the two were aligned perfectly, meaning when Dew was about to strike again, Albert met him before he had even gained his momentum and the force propelled Dew into the air and he slid across the ground. 

Ouch! 

"Are you all right?"

It sure does smart though, he said as he winced in pain, but I am fine. He rose up from the ground and dusted off his back.

"Bite him Albert!"

With a jig did the Totodile chase after Dew with his tongue half out of his mouth, dangling, and where did he bite him? In the worst place possible for any member of the Marril family: right on the tail, where the cute blue ball is. Dew squealed in pain as the alligator slammed him down repeatedly.

Rosie bit her nail pensively when suddenly, an idea popped into her head. "Dew," she yelled, "uncoil your tail!"

When the alligator went to go swing him in the air, yank him back, and quickly move out the way, Dew uncoiled his usually crinkled tail and then recoiled, thenceforth causing his body to slam into Albert. But, he would not cease to let go of the ball.

"I know how to win this round," Rosie said. "Dew, I want you to dive and roll!"

"What will that do?"

"You'll see!"

Dew leapt forward, causing Albert to go into the air with him, and in one fluid movement did he rotate his body his head was looking and Albert's underbelly, thus doing a flip, which forced Albert to let go and fly into the podium where his trainer was standing.

"Albert! You did a good job, now take a rest."

"You too Dew, I knew that I could count on you."

"Miss Fierra has won round one. The next element is now that of the grass. Begin!"

"Go Lady Vanilla."

"I choose you Willa! Go!" Following the command, a glorious Sunflora was released from her home. She smiled; well, a smile is perpetual on her face and beamed in happiness. It was a sunny day outside.

"Tackle it!"

Vanilla stamped the ground and charged at Willa, how was too slow to move out of the way. She was one of the most affected grass elements, for she was a flower in virtually every way possible, except that she could make noises and use attacks. Willa was flung to the ground and her former smile was pressed into a deep frown. She was not so happy any longer.

"Hold out Willa."

"What are you doing?" asked Rosie, for she was confused.

"You will see."

"Use your vines!"

Vanilla extended both vines and slapped Flora across the face with it. Her face went to and fro, hither and thither, here and there until her face started to grow white with anger—or perhaps was it something else?

"Finish her off with a tackle. Rika, remind me to give you some potion capsules after the match. Your naivety is showing right now."

"No I think that yours is. Go Willa, relinquish your solar-beam!" She yelled.

It was the perfect scenario, here was Vanilla, charging at her opponent, while the whole time, since the beginning of the match, Willa had been gathering energy and Rosamunde was to foolish to realize that, even with all of her experience. A great beam of yellow and white solar energy was hurled at Vanilla, at close range to Willa, in the midst of running, and due to the nearness, the blow was more affective. Vanilla screamed in pain as she was blasted across the ground. Rosie shrieked and ran to her side and rubbed her head. A tear dripped down her cheek as she spoke soothing words to her pokemon. She returned her.

"Good job Willa, I knew that you would not fail me," said Rochelle with a sweet smile. She was really serious. She had much to gain and nothing or nobody was going to stop her—not even her best friend, Rosamunde

"Miss Carlyle has won this round, which means that the winner of the ladyship could be either of the two. Final round—commence!"

The only people who seemed to occupy the world in these last few moments were Rosamunde, Rochelle, and their pokemon, Lassie, the robust Arcanine, and Crimson, whom had each been called a few seconds after the announcer stopped speaking.

Rosie grunted.

"Use an ember attack!" cried Rochelle.

Like phlegm coming from a mouth did Lassie spit out the embers that danced at Crimson's feet. He bounded endlessly from place to place, only to be met by a puddle of flames until the whole arena was a blazing inferno.

"Leap into the air and do a quick attack," said Rosie.

Crimson obediently leapt into the air, pinpointing a space on Lassie's ribs where he thought might be her weak spot, and propelled, like an arrow, into the exact location. She bellowed in pain but she quickly countered with a tail whip thenceforth flinging him like a rag doll. He was a hill compared to this mountain of flesh, muscle, and bone.

"Use flamethrower!"

"You too!"

A blaze if flames collided in the middle of the ring, heating up the entire atmosphere, causing men to unbutton their cuffs and collars and women to wave their fans. A ball of fire was hurled into the air. The battle was getting intense and Lassie's firepower was overcoming Crimson's. He could breathe fire no longer: his internal fire sacs would not allow it. He was engulfed in flames.

"Stop!" cried Rochelle.

Rosie held her burnt pokemon. His fur was singed with black and soot had fount its way there. It pained her to see him this way.

"The winner of the women's division is...Miss Rochelle Carlyle!"

The crowd applauded.

Rosie shook her head. She had lost another grand tournament...

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The Queen placed a jeweled silver crown upon Rochelle's head and a check for one hundred thousand petals into her hands. Then, smiling the whole time, she kissed her politely on both cheeks as the Prince did so with the winner of the male division—Frederic Skyler.

There was no room for Rosie to be sad right now, for both of her friends had won grand titles and a supreme amount of money. She smiled courteously, masking her own gloominess. If she were disposed to be happy for her friends, then why did she feel so bad?

"I knight thee as Sir Frederic Skyler," said Prince Burke, "I hope that you will not use your title recklessly and use it justly. I hope that you will be generous and kind and spend your fortune wisely."

"I knight thee as Lady Rochelle Carlyle," said Queen Grace, "I hope that you will find a splendid husband and that you will be dutiful, cheerful, sensible of others, and I am confident that you will spend your fortune prudently."

The crowd applauded.

"Your first meeting in the House of Lords and Ladies will be in a month's time," said the Queen, "and at this time, the newly knighted Lady Rochelle and Sir Skyler will participate in a spotlight dance with myself and my regal brother, Prince Burke. It will be led by an aria composed by Mr. Chadwick Jones."

The two pairs danced away. Rosamunde stood silent, amongst all the other losers, and dabbed her tears with a handkerchief. (After the dance, Prince Burke planted a sensual kiss on Rochelle's full lips, much to everyone's surprise. It made the front page the following morning in the Florien Times.) But the true question is, were these tears of joy or of sorrow?

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The Aristocratic Matches have now drawn to a close. And now what are the following thoughts? Should she have won? Or is it best that she lost? Is she being a horrible friend? What about this maturity that Rosie was meant to have? Is she really immature or is she human like all of the rest of us. Only the future holds the truth. Rosie departs...next time on Love in the Flower Archipelago. Yours, etc.—The Sapphire Prince 


	5. Leaving

Love in the Flower Archipelago: Rosie's Love Life

Written by the Sapphire Prince

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Previously on L.F.A:

Rosie's aunt and uncle, the McDermotts, arrived with her siblings, and bore a great surprise on her and her family: that they were to have a baby in less than a month and that they wished for Rosie to be with them at the time. Rosie accepted the invitation and within a week were they supposed to leave. However, Rosie also has to make a quick trip to visit Hannah in order to get fitted for the gown. Rosie made it all the way to the final match between her and Rochelle, her best friend, in a competition for a ladyship and a large sum of money. Rosie lost. Rika won, as did Skyler. And now Rosie is a little gloomy because of that. She leaves in less than a week, what will be accomplished?

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Chapter Four

"So what do you plan on doing with your money Lady Rochelle?" asked Rosie as she and Rika sat down at a table in the backyard of Rosewood. She had stopped by before leaving for Autumn Island once more. It was the day after the Aristocratic Matches and Rochelle was positively exhausted.

She had endured endless parties and the kiss planted by the Prince had still left her rather drowsy. It was so random, that kiss was; after dancing he just arched her back and kissed her. She was in heaven to be correct. Butterflies fluttered in her stomach and she believed that the Prince liked her and she believed that she could possibly be in love with him. 

"You do not have to call me that all of the time, only when we are in front of other aristocrats and people of high standing would be fine," she said. She still had not grown used to the title as Lady Rochelle. She thought it to be very becoming but not one close friends and family called her that.

"You still have not answered my question."

"Oh," she said as she quickly took a sip from her French-roasted coffee; she needed the coffee to prevent her from dozing, however, she had already done so in that brief instant. "Mother and I are going to look for homes on Autumn Island to move in, or perhaps on Hydrangea."

"Hydrangea is much too far away! I would never see you if you lived there!"

"Why not? I visit you often. There is no justifiable as to why you could not visit me. You have the money," she said.

Rosie took a sudden offence. "Are you trying to imply something? I am not certain."

"No, why would I ever do that? It is the truth, you can afford to do it. Sometimes I wonder why you never seem to visit me is all."

"I do not know why...I love it when you come visit me is all. But I will visit you Rochelle; that is a promise that will not be broken."

"I trust your word," she said, but then a dreamy look was visible in her eyes. She stared to the sky, blushed, and sighed deeply. This look was a familiar one to Rosie, yet, she could not decipher from whom did it come from. She coiled a tendril pensively as she pondered.

"What do you have? Are you feeling light-headed? I have some smelling salts in the medicinal cabinet. I will send Eleanor to get it—"

"No!" She interjected. "I am calm and I am fine. I am but in love with someone."

"Whom are you talking about?" asked Rosie. Whom could she possibly be in love with? She could not recall if she had met someone at the parties, for Rosie herself had gone home early to sob in her pillow.

"I am in love with—Prince Burke!"

Rosie could not help but to laugh at this statement. It was so ridiculous to her that she laughed even louder than before. What a fool, she thought. How immature this all is, she thought. 

Lady Rochelle looked at her friend, her best friend, and narrowed her eyes at her. Her succulent lips were pressed into a thin line. "For what are you laughing Rosamunde Fierra? I can be in love with anyone whom I want to be. I would rather be in love with someone than with no one at all."

Her mirth was quickly disabled, and she too began to frown. "This is not about me; it is about you. You can be foolish if that is what pleases you. The Prince is a womanizer, do not think that he really shares true feelings for you. You are no different than myself or any other woman in this country. Hence, it would be wise to get the thought out of your thick head."

"If what you say is true, I will learn it own my own. It is nice to learn things on your on Rosie. You never know a good thing until you experience. If I get hurt in the process, then so be it. For what does not kill one makes one stronger. And I will not miss out on a potential husband just because you think that you know someone's ways. Good bye!" And with that, Lady Rochelle gathered her skirts and stormed out of Rosewood and onto the road. She was going to walk to the buggy stand and fetch a chaise to take her to the Sunrise Inn, where she and her mother resided.

Rosie took a gulp of her coffee and placed the mug onto her saucer. She then wiped her mouth with an embroidered handkerchief and rose to gather the dishes.

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Rochelle set a brisk pace as she scurried along the dirt roads. The white skirts underneath her violet printed dress were turning tan from the mud, for there had been a brief morning shower earlier that morning. She did not give a deuce about though, she had more significant things to worry about: such as Rosie. 

As of then, Rosie was a shadowy being. Rosie believed that nobody called like anyone but her and she was a sore loser also, in Rochelle's eyes. She had seen her cry but quickly try to hide her tears. She wanted to win. That was obvious. But to Lady Rochelle, it seemed as if she was highly jealous. Well, good things come to good people and Lady Rochelle had been nothing but good. She comforted Rosie when she was sad, she prevented conflicts, she did all of a friend's duties, and it seemed as if no reward was received. Instead, Rosie ridiculed her attempts at love, which she had had no success in as of lately. She did not care to die an old maid.

Marriage is what both she and her mother hoped for before. A good marriage, at that, to a loving husband that was financially secure and willing to take care of she and her mother without hesitation. But now that she had won a title and a great sum of money, marriage was not as essential as it was before; however, it would still be pleasant.

She looked through blurry eyes at the tall building with horses having buggies attached to them. She wiped her tears and waved her hand in an effort to hail the buggy. A man with a felt hat stopped his buggy and helped the lady into the seat.

"And where might such a fine lady as yourself be traveling to?"

"To the Sunset Inn on the road Exchange, please," she said, as she gingerly took out her small coin purse. "What shall the fare be sir?"

"It costs but one petal Miss," he said while holding out his hand to her. She dropped the two silver coins into his hand (A/N: petals are actually gold pieces lined with silver.). He climbed into he seat and delicate whipped the horse's flank and they set off at light trot.

A drizzle began as the approached the halfway point to the Inn, where her mother waited. She heard a loud voice calling for the buggy. "I believe that you have yet another customer."

He halted the buggy and a young man that looked no more than twenty-six boarded the carriage and he paid his fare. Rochelle felt her hair getting wet and she earnestly hoped that she could get home quicker. She looked at the young man out of the corner of her amethyst eyes and she liked what she saw. He appeared to be tall and he had a healthy shade of bronze skin and short, dark curly hair and hazel eyes. He was altogether handsome.

"May I have the honor of knowing your name?" he asked politely.

"My name is," she hesitated, "Lady Rochelle Carlyle."

He looked at her oddly, which caused her to become nervous and she stared at her black boots. Then, as if he had just remembered something he beamed and said, "you must be that beautiful lady that I saw at the Matches yesterday. You won and received a kiss by Prince Burke."

"Yes," she said, "I know." He was not the first, nor would he be the last person to remember her by that. Although it was a serene moment, she didn't care to be remembered as the Baroness who was kissed by Prince Burke. She wanted to be know as Lady Rochelle: the Good-natured Baroness.

"A lady should not act so timid in front of a common gentleman," he said. 

She sneered at him with narrow eyes. Now was not the best time to tell her how she was supposed to act.

"How do I know how a baroness should act? I did not take a course at the University! All my life I have been talked to act like a common gentlewoman, so please bear with me."

He grinned and fingered her thin moustache, "you are an amusing one indeed."

"Who are you anyways? And what authority do you possess that allows you to judge me?" she cried.

"My name is Holden."

She looked at him with wild eyes, "is that all Mr. Holden? Do not you have a prename?"

"That is my prename. My full name is Holden de Belleville."

"Well then M. de Belleville , are you capable of decent conversation?"

"I believe that I am capable," he said sarcastically.

"Well, while I was not sure since you were being such a coxcomb!" she said. "Where are you going to?"

"Wherever you are," he said. 

"Oh no," she cried, "I am not having uninvited callers where my mother and I are staying. I will not! Therefore, you should dispel the thought out of your mind M. de Belleville!"

He pouted his lips, in a mock attempt to make her feel remorse for her statements. "Why are you so mean? You have broken my heart into a million pieces. You will never have me that way."

"I do not want you!" she exclaimed.

"Do not deny the feelings that we share for one another Lady Rochelle. I've known since I saw you in this buggy that you and I possessed mutual passionate feelings."

Rochelle was rather bewildered as of then. What in the world was he speaking of? What did he have? Was he mad, perhaps insane? "You are a demented individual Holden de Belleville and as of now, I do not know what lunatic would ever have you. All that I do know is that you are a coxcomb and that you better not call on me, or else I will call on the officers."

"If hiding your feelings pleases you, then I cannot reject that any longer. My heart is at peace knowing that your feelings involve me," he said with a sigh.

"The only feeling that I have for you is contempt and I am ready to slap you across your face. Just leave me alone! I do not have to take your insolence," said Rika heatedly.

"But you will Lady Rochelle, until you are mine. I hope that your mother has prepared extra food, for I am quite famished," he said as he rubbed his stomach for emphasis.

The buggy neared the Inn and stopped promptly at the front gates. The inn was medium sized and it had the homey appeal that attracted everyone to it. A pristine pond with puss willows and a few lily pads, with large pink flowers, was just beyond the gates and just before the front door.

"Thank you for the voyage, sir," said Rochelle as she hurriedly grabbed her skirts in order to get out as soon as possible. Holden said likewise and he hopped out and opened her door for her. Then, he grabbed her and carried her over his shoulder, kicking and screaming and slapping him the whole way to the port.

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"That is mine Evan! Give it back," Rosalynne cried as her brother paraded around the yard with her most precious toy in the air. 

"No!" 

"Give me back my dolly or I'll tell Mommy!" she said as she fell to the ground with her arms reaching for the doll. She had just fallen upon the ground in an attempt to capture it. She sobbed loudly.

"Not until you give me back my car," he said, referring to a wooden car carved from oak that his uncle had gave him.

"But I need it so that my Dolly and her friends can drive around in it," she pleaded.

"Leave her alone Evan. Stop being so selfish," said Julian.

"Make me," Evan taunted. He threw down the doll, whose head promptly fell off, which made Rosalynne cry even harder. Julian leapt upon his twin. His equal in looks and height and perhaps even strength. They rolled around on the ground with a barrage of kicking, punching, and screaming.

The noise from the quarreling forced Rosamunde to rush outside and break up the fight. She grabbed each boy by the ear and pulled them away from each other.

"Now why were you two fighting?" asked Rosie.

"She stole my car!" cried Evan.

"I only borrowed it for my dollies," Rosalynne defended. "He broke her head Rosie; he broke her head. Wa!" she cried hysterically.

Rosie fought the urge to burst out in laughter at her dramatic sister and at the beheaded doll. Then, she put on the maternal face that had become prevalent since her siblings were born and since she started training, and made them all apologize to one another. Afterwards, she scurried back into the house where, to her surprise, she stood face to face with her friend, Sir Frederic Skyler.

"Oh Skyler," she said, "you're visit is most unexpected. Do sit down my friend. Would you like some freshly squeezed orange and carrot juice?" she asked, taking on the proper attitude of a hostess.

"Yes," he said with a smile, "I would." Then, as she walked away, he could not help but admire the elasticity of her step and her incredible figure. He yearned for the day when he revealed his true thoughts of her and when she would graciously return hers. Now, he believed that he had to build up her trust and love for him. How he went about this will be shown as the story progresses.

She came back with a metal tray with two sparkling glasses of the juice along with a pitcher, if he or she desired more, and a plate of dainties: butter cookies and crepes filled with freshly whipped cream and strawberries. 

"Those look very delightful Rosie," he commented, "did you prepare these yourself."

"I did so this morning, after Rika left," she said sourly, "we quarreled with one another."

"Why?"

"Over something very stupid and not at all worth discussing," she said with a sense of finality. She did not want to speak on the subject and she scarcely wished to hear her friend's name. 

"I believe that if you did not want to discuss it then you would not have mentioned it."

She admired his cleverness at times; but right then was when it was most unwanted. "Perhaps Skyler, but now is not a great time for it. I must have just slipped—please let us talk of something else."

"Well," began Skyler, "I was wondering if you would like to come on a trip to Kanto with Charlene and I in about two months or so. It would be very amusing."

"I am not certain if I can Skyler."

His smile disappeared as soon as she uttered the last syllable. What a tragedy! How would he ever get to know her? How would he ever get to know if she was really the type of person he wanted to be committed to? He believed that he loved her already and if he had the nerve, he would have proposed already; however, he wanted to make sure that she felt the same way. And he was not naive enough to make the assumption that she did because it was beyond obvious that she did not. 

"Do not be disheartened my friend," she urged. "You see, I have already made engagements. My Aunt Peony and Mr. McDermott have already invited me to reside with them until a month after the baby is born: about two months. And you may already know that my friend Hannah and her Joshua are to be wed next week. If I were not already engaged I would surely vacate with you and Charlene."

"I understand," he said. Then, he said, after coming up with a bright idea, "we could just call on you while you are there! All that you would have to do is have your aunt and uncle leave me a card, or you could write down the address."

"Yes," she said, "your plan is very agreeable. There is no doubt that Aunt Peony would not mind a caller."

"Excellent. Then it is set. All you have to do is tell me where they live, I will write it down some other time. Pray tell me what it is."

"I believe that it is the number sixteen avenue Calendula. The estate is called Calendula Manor and it is located on the lower eastside of Passion Fruit Island."

"Many thanks Miss Fierra," he said with a smile, "I am going to take leave of you right now so I will send you a letter during your stay. Bon voyage!" Afterwards, he hurried out of the door.

"Wait!" Rosamunde called just before he left the threshold.

"Yes?" he asked with a confused, yet excited expression on his handsome face.

"Why do you want to visit me so badly Skyler?"

Skyler was stunned, he did not know what to say. Maybe she had figured me out after all, he thought. "In order to strengthen our acquaintance. I think that you are a phenominal young woman. I value your friendship."

Rosie blushed after realizing how much that might have taken out of him. Such a sweet person he is, she thought. "Thank you Skyler." Then, after overseeing him mount his stallion and gallop away, she leaned against the doorframe and sight. Maybe Hannah was right, she thought...

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"And who might this dashing young man be?" asked Mrs. Carlyle as she eyed the young man from a padded rocking chair. She was feeling very under the weather today, however, she was not sick enough to dismiss an unplanned, yet handsome, visitor.

"I am Holden de Belleville, madame. I'm from Belleville, a small village on Dew Island. My family is the founding peoples of the village and we live upon a hill in an estate called Belleville Hall."

"How excellent. You must indeed be in search of a wife M. de Belleville. What else would a fine man of your credentials be doing in a place such as this?"

"Mother," Rochelle snapped, "why are you doing this?" Her lips barely moved as she said it, but Holden heard it nonetheless. He grinned.

"Doing what?"

"As a matter of fact Mrs. Carlyle, I am looking for a wife. I believe that your beautiful daughter is the best candidate."

"Holden!" she interjected. "I do not believe that your speech is appropriate. Besides, it is getting late; so why do not you leave?"

"Do stay M. de Belleville for dinner. I believe that the cooks are making roasted duck tonight," she said. If this is what it took to get Rika to marry, then she was more than happy to instigate it.

"Your daughter does want me to leave Mrs. Carlyle," he began; "but I will stay nevertheless." He smiled sweetly and then threw a smug glance at the object of his attention. She promptly placed her head and her hands and shook it. It was going to be a long evening. 

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The next day, Rochelle could not face the fact that she and Rosie had argued and did not reconcile. Therefore, she rushed over to Rosewood as soon as possible, just before she left, in order to so.

The McDermotts and Rosie were already outside with their trunks stacked into a pile as they awaited the arrival of the chaise. Rosie was dressed in a tan riding habit with her hair falling freely down her back. Eleanor and Dew were by her side, for they were going also.

"Rosie," Rika cried out as she rushed over to the group of people. Rosie was snapped out of the gaze which had take over her countenance and did not know whether to sneer or to sigh in relief. The entire dilemma had been bugging her all day yesterday and she was just as eager to reconcile with her friend.

"Rika," she said as they stood face to face.

"Hello Lady Rochelle," said Peony and her husband as they curtseyed and bowed.

"Hello to you all," she said. Then, she turned to Rosie and grasped her hands. "I have been terrible for the past night or so. I just have to get this off of my chest."

"Me too."

"I am sorry for what I said yesterday. You did not deserve it. My anger blinded me."

"As did mine."

"Friends forever?" questioned Rika with a hopeful look in her violet eyes.

"Friends forever," she replied and the two embraced in a tight embrace. A warm embrace that only the truest of friends and passionate of lovers can perform (THEY ARE NOT LOVERS IN CASE YOU WERE WONDERING). You see, reader, true friends and lovers cannot go on fighting. One or the other will always break down and apologize, or rather they should, for the other no doubtedly feels the same way. Our petty indifferences as humans are just what I have said: petty indifferences. Why should we lose an incedible friendship because of them? The answer is: we should not.

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_ ****_

Dear Readers, in the next chapter Rosie will be at her aunt's house on Passion Fruit Isle, in the lush estate of Calendula Manor. New acquaintances and new pokemon await her in that place. You will read more in the next chapter. Also, Hannah and Joshua's wedding will commence in just a few days! Please read and review. Yours, etc. —The Sapphire Prince 


	6. Reflections, Nervousness, Preparations, ...

Love in the Flower Archipelago: Rosie's Love Life

Written by The Sapphire Prince

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Previously on L.F.A:

The two best friends, Rosamunde and Lady Rochelle, participated in a brief, and might I add frivolous, quarrel, which proved nothing and nothing was gained. Rochelle was tormented by a dashing young fellow named Holden de Belleville, who was enamored of her at first sight and proud enough to claim her as his future spouse. The two friends made up in the end, as true friends do, and Rosie and the McDermott couple departed for Calendula Manor, where Rosie is to reside for many weeks...

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Chapter Five

"Is not an ocean breeze the most comforting thing that one can find while on the ocean?" Aunt Peony asked as she tilted her pleasant face up to the sky, basking in the sun as the wind whipped her fuchsia out of its coiffure.

Rosie nodded her assent.

She had other things to think about: such as what the gowns would look like, if Hannah would be a notorious witch once she was married, in other words, if she would rub it into her face, and the like. Rosie had to decide on a manner in which to present herself and how to handle these possible situations. 

"Oh," Peony grunted as she clutched her belly. Pain shot through her body and with her free hand, she clutched the rail until her knuckles shown white. She staggered.

"Dearest!" Mr. McDermott exclaimed as he lifted her back to her feet. He and Rosie crowded around her.

"Are you well Aunt Peony?" asked Rosie with a genuine look of concern displayed on her face. Ellie was poised, ready to dash down to the cabin at any moment to fetch assistance.

A wry smile tugged at the corners of her lips, "That one was rather powerful don't you think." She straightened herself up. "I will be fine; it is like that sometimes. You never know when those contractions may strike."

"Oh."

"Are you sure? I could fetch you some tea if you wanted some. Do you want some tea?" jabbered her husband.

"No thank you dear. I am fine. Just stop being so worried; I am the one having this baby."

He frowned. "I just want you to have the utmost comfort dear. Is it such a crime?"

"Only when you are being excessive. Please," she begged, "find something useful to do. Why don't you write a letter to your mother?"

"Fine," he said. He began to step away, "I can tell when my assistance in not required. Adieu my love, I will see you after I am done."

Rosie giggled. 

"He is only trying to an attentive husband Aunt Peony. It shows that his love, or at least his regard, for you is tremendous."

"I know that Rosie but there is a time when a woman does not feel like being catered to. It is a natural thing, these contractions, and there is not reason why I cannot deal with them naturally, or in other words, without his assistance."

"I understand," she replied as she scratched Ellie behind her cobalt blue ear. Eleanor smiled in delight.

I hope that the baby will be a happy and healthy one. 

"You are not the only one Ellie," she said. 

Rosie walked off towards the part of the boat that is most pointy and took off her bonnet. Her hair, in its neat bun, was blown apart, the silver pins clinging to the loose strands. She gingerly removed them, depositing them into her pocket.

She knew that she was with two nautical miles from Star Fruit Island. There was no doubt that Hannah would be waiting for her, at the seamstress's shop. She would probably be beaming as well, for she'd been anticipating this her whole life. Sometimes, Rosie wondered how sappy a person could be; however, a voice inside, her conscience, told her that she was just a coward and perhaps even jealous. 

She sighed.

What's wrong Rosie? 

"I am just contemplating a few matters is all," she replied. A sudden vision of Skyler and Prince Burke appeared in her mind. She knew that Prince Burke was out of the question. He was a womanizer, and extremely arrogant, which was to be expected due to his position. Yet, Rosie could not help admire his confidence and his way with words. Skyler, well...he was Skyler. He was good-natured and kind, and, as if it really mattered, handsome. He loved his sister and his aunt and uncle. But, he was blind to the fact that they were not his true parents, but they were in the sense that they fulfilled each parental duty. Rosie held sympathy for the man. She could not bare the day when the truth will be revealed, yet she knew that it would come someday.

May I ask what it is that you are contemplating? 

"Well, I was thinking of Mr. Skyler and of the Prince: the two men that are supposedly vying for my affection."

I would choose Skyler if I were you. Ellie said.

"Eleanor! I did not say that I was choosing who I wanted to spend my life with. I was just...thinking of them," then, shaking her head as if that was best thing to say, "yeah—that is it!"

For some reason I am having difficulties believing. It sounds as if you do not believe yourself. She said matter-of-factly.

She narrowed her eyes. There was no hiding anything from one's pokemon, one's first pokemon at that.

I say that I have hit the nail on the head Rosie. She took a breath. I know that the acquaintance between Skyler and yourself has just been renewed, but, being a believer in love at first sight, I must say that he really does have strong feelings for you. I know that your feelings might not be as strong but the best thing to say would be that it will take some time for them to strengthen. Who knows, it may be tomorrow or in three weeks; nonetheless, I am certain that it will happen. A man like him is a good catch and you should not ruin your life by passing up this opportunity. One like him comes once per lifetime. 

Rosie gathered all that she had said and analyzed it. It made sense. Perfect sense at that. She sighed as she said, "what ever you say dear Eleanor."

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Hannah waited patiently as the seamstress pressed pins into the beautiful white muslin that made up her gown. The lavender rosettes were located at random points on the gown, particularly on the skirt and on the snug bodice. 

She had already decided that the bridesmaids' gowns would be the same lavender as the rosettes and that they would be modestly cut, with a bare minimum of cleavage. 

There were to be three bridesmaids, Lady Rochelle, Rosie, and Charlene, Skyler's sister. Yes, Skyler was to be there after all, a detail he had failed to mention whilst speaking with Rosie that day. However, immediately following the wedding reception, he and Miss Skyler were to depart back for Sandalwood and await the two months before departing to Kanto. But more importantly, they would wait the month or so before calling on the McDermotts and their visitor.

Hannah decided that there would be no maid of honor.

Her parents, the Smiths, were to arrive that evening and stay with Yuki until a week after the ceremony. Yuki favored the idea, for he was eager to have more company besides the two lovebirds. Their conversational skills had grown considerably less intelligent after they were engaged. However, Joshua Fairfield, did not, referring to her parents as a nuisance that would invade their personal space. Hannah quickly contradicted his statement and said that their presence could possibly be the best thing for them, after all, Hannah needed to get some cooking and homemaking tips from her mother.

"Please don't fidget Mademoiselle, or else I'll prick you—" said the seamstress.

"Ouch!"

"I told you so. Stand still please, I only have a few more pins to place," she said as she took the remaining pins out of her puckered mouth.

Hannah groaned. _Where are they? _she thought. Rochelle would, of course, be a tad late, due to the fact that she had to wait until Holden de Belleville got his yacht prepared. She had wired her a telegram saying that it was completely unavoidable. That he had practically carried her to there. What disturbed her was that Rochelle was without a chaperone, yet a part of her insisted that Holden was a complete gentleman and that he would never make any sexual advances towards her. 

Just then, Miss Skyler walked through the door, causing Hannah to flood over in relief. The two had met some time ago at a pokemon convention a year ago. They had become good friends since then.

"Charlene—ouch!"

"Mademoiselle!"

"I could not help it Madame LaSalle! I was simply happy to see my friend."

"I hope that the other two do not come until after I am finished."

"Hello Hannah; Miss Smith, I _should_ say, but doesn't Mrs. Fairfield sound much more pleasant?"

"Indeed."

They chuckled warm-heartedly.

"What took you so long?"

"Freddie's blasted crew arrived rather late. The rotten blasphemers did so many unpleasant things to me. They whistled and howled...one even had the audacity to pinch _my_ derriere! I quickly reprimanded him of course.

"I suppose that it had been a long time since they've seen a beautiful young woman. Would not it be funny if women behaved in that fashion? Simply hilarious! Thank God that we think with our minds and not with something else." 

"You're horrible Charlene."

"I cannot help it, I grew up with a brother so I know these things."

Charlene sat in a nearby chair and rocked contentedly. 

Skyler had checked them into a suite at the Hilltop Inn, which was not too far from Fairfield Hall, Hannah and Joshua's new abode. In fact, it was just a mile away. He claimed to have had some important business to take care. She dared not ask, she knew that he hated to be questioned and she did not want to appear nosy either.

"Where are those two?" 

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Sir Skyler eyed the mass selection of jewelry. Watches, bracelets, brooches, chokers, and most importantly, rings were abundant here. Each ring was better the rest, so his decision would be difficult.

He decided that he had better buy a wedding ring right then do that he would not have to do it some other time.

Sure he did not believe that his sentiments towards Rosamunde would returned if he paid his addresses then, but maybe, just maybe, she would in the near future. Although, he would wait for an eternity if he had to. He did not believe that there was anyone else in this world for him but her.

A particular ring caught his eye. It was a golden band encrusted with a large princess-cut diamond surround by a medium-sized blue sapphire and a twinkling emerald. This was the ring that he wanted. This was the ring that he wanted for Rosamunde Fierra, whom was _hopefully_ his future Mrs. Frederic Skyler.

After purchasing the exquisite ring, he busied himself by ambling down the street Main, peering into the family-owned shops. There was, as always, a milliners' shops, general stores, furniture stores, and the like. He knew that he would eventually pass by the bridal ship where the girls were, and he wanted to desperately do something more productive than wait on them.

As if some sort of deity had granted his wish, an adolescent no more than seventeen waltzed up to him and challenged him to a pokemon duel. 

Luckily, Skyler had his pokemon friends on him at all times. Always armed and ready: prepared for almost anything, whether danger lurked nearby or instances such as this.

"I would like to an one-on-one pokemon battle. I would prefer that it would be a water-pokemon battle."

_Hmm_...Skyler thought. He only possessed one of this element. That would mean that he was compelled to choose—

"Go Snapper!" With that exclamation, a large Croconaw materialized onto the street, which was completely devoid of buggies. Only a few random pedestrians gathered on the sidewalks to watch the battle.

"A Croconaw, eh? I will choose my Seaking! Go!"

The large fish pokemon flopped on its side whilst it was in the street. It pained his heart that this pokemon was not where it belonged: in the water. Why his trainer would force it to battle on land, Skyler was very uncertain; however, he was sure that there was a legitimate reason.

"Are you certain that you want to go through with this?"

"Yeah," the teenager exclaimed with all of the youthful arrogance that some young men possess. Frankly, it reminded him of a man, from long ago, perhaps when he was just an infant...Skyler shook his head.

"If you say so. Why don't you use the first attack?" Skyler proffered. There was no reason why he should undermine his confidence.

"Water gun!"

The pokemon positioned itself upright with much ease and opened its mouth. A column of pressurized water shot out of its mouth, directed directly at Snapper's jaw. It made its mark but Snapper stood his ground. With a grimace he leapt out of harms way.

"Well done, Snapper. Now, use your water gun!"

Snapper swung his head in an impressive arc and sprayed the fish with twice as much power than the fish had given him. The pokemon was blasted across the ground.

"Do not give up Seaking. Use your tackle attack!"

The Seaking, no less undetermined from the attack, pounced at Snapper. Snapper jumped from place to place only to be matched by the surprisingly lithe Seaking.

_This pokemon is amazing...never have I witnessed such a feat_, Skyler thought. 

"Bite it!"

With a might roar, Snapper clamped onto the ivory horn of Seaking and lifted it into the air. 

"Quickly use a horn drill attack!"

Like an electronic screwdriver did the horn spin. The horn jabbed Snapper's tongue and teeth, causing him to drop it. Then, the fish pounced at his belly and Skyler was forced to retrieve him.

"Return!"

"Ha," taunted the youth, "we won! Great job Seaking. Thanks Monsieur, for letting me duel with you." With that, he marched off, filled with the joy that is prevalent in anyone at any age.

_Incredible_, thought Skyler.

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"_Finally_," Rochelle cheered.

"Finally what?" asked Holden as he docked into the port. 

The voyage had just been completed and Rochelle was absolutely overjoyed. 

"Finally I will be rid of you. That is right, I do not have to be disrespected by you again! Never will I see your face!" She practically jumped for joy at the pleasant thought.

Holden clutched his shirt in the place where his heart was supposed to be and gasped. "You are killing me. Surely you do not mean it!"

"I do."

"That can not be! I have never disrespected you Lady Carlyle. I have been an utmost gentleman when around you. I would never dishonor you; it is against my code of conduct."

"Then what do you call the constant pestering that I have suffered, at your hands?"

"It shows my ardent love for you."

"Ardent love," she repeated in disbelief. "Are you mad?"

"Do you believe in love at first sight?" he asked, completely brushing aside her query.

"Not in this case."

"Then you are blind Mademoiselle," he exclaimed. "Surely you cannot live without seeing my face; this handsome face I might add."

"You make me ill."

"Then why aren't you vomiting or even better, in the bed awaiting for my soothing touch. I can heal this type of sickness," he said smoothly.

"What type of sickness?"

He grinned.

She grew infuriated. "You cad! You disrespectable cad! How dare you say such provocative things?"

"Because it's what you want to hear," he said pinning her into a corner. His words breezing over her lips, causing her to tremble.

"I do not! Why are you hovering over me like this?"

"Prove that you do not want to hear it," he jabbered.

"What do I have to do that will make you leave me alone."

"To become my wife and bear my children," he answered matter-of-factly.

"Well," she said, grabbing his angular face, "you had better settle with this."

With all of that said, she pulled him into a heavy kiss, full of much more passion than she intended. Hell, she had intended to be a light kiss: no more than a pick. _Damn_, she thought, _what am I doing_?

When his hands began to clutch her waist, she wrenched herself away from his grasp and ran across the deck, hopped over the railing, and scurried to the bridal shop.

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And so the gang gathered together once more. Skyler had walked in just minutes before Rosie, who took his breath away. He mustered enough courage to engage in pleasant conversation. Rosamunde noticed that Skyler had a weird glint in his eye, as if he knew something that she did not. Rochelle arrived flushed and out of breath. Holden de Belleville was hot on her heels. Hannah was overjoyed and couldn't wait until her wedding day...

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I found that I had a really great time writing this chapter, especially the entertaining dialogue of Lady Rochelle and Holden de Belleville. I enjoy writing about them the most. They seem to have the most modern of courtships, if that is the word to call it. Anyways, in the next chapter, Hannah becomes Mrs. Fairfield and Rosie leaves Calendula Manor. Please read and review. I need to know how you feel. Signing off—The Sapphire Prince


	7. Sweet Wedding Bells, Watch HOw They Ring...

Love in the Flower Archipelago: Rosie's Love Life

Written by The Sapphire Prince

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Previously...:

In the last chapter Rosie and her Aunt and Uncle McDermott arrived on Star fruit Island. Hannah grew nervous whilst waiting for her bridesmaids. Skyler purchased a wedding ring. And Lady Rochelle engaged herself into a searing kiss. Those sweet wedding bells...

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****

Chapter Six

"Oh God," chattered Hannah as she awaited the signal. The signal to begin the bridal march that is. 

Her friends, Lady Rochelle, Miss Skyler, and Rosamunde stood next to her also. They, of course, were to leave first, accompanied by the groomsmen. These lucky men happened to be Joshua's brother, Peter, the infamous Chadwick Jones, and, out of a random choice, Skyler. They were already at the altar.

"Hannah, try not to be jittery," said Charlene, patting her reassuringly on the back. "Mistakes are bound to happen if you are."

"Thanks," she said blandly. "That is exactly what I wanted to hear."

"Sorry."

Hannah looked over at Rika, who appeared to be deep in thought. Her brow was furrowed and periodically, she shuddered. And she even nodded her head in disagreement with, Hannah supposed, herself. It was odd behavior indeed.

"What is on your mind?" She asked.

"Nothing," she said quickly.

Apparently, whatever it was that she was thinking about, she did not feel like discussing. This, however, brought about unintelligible speculation amongst all of the young women.

Hannah figured that something horrible must have happened to her. Charlene thought that she might have head a headache, a malady that no medicinal cure had yet been discovered. This would explain the shuddering; Charlene thought that the shudders were shudders of pain. Rosie figured that she must be going through some internal struggle.

"What?" asked Rochelle when she realized that all attention had been turned on her. Her face was flustered and, if one looked close enough, one might even say, flushed.

"What is wrong with you?" asked Rosie, obviously taking the initiative that was oh so necessary to break the ice.

"Nothing," she said flatly, being extremely careful not to advert her gaze to the hardwood floor. Instead, she looked them each into the eye as she said it.

Unfortunately, these women were much to inquisitive, and good friends to pass this up.

"Rika," said Hannah, "there is no use in even trying to maintain this front."

"She is right," Charlene agreed.

Rika placed her hands upon her hips and barked, "if I wanted to talk about it then I would have brought it up!"

"What is the pronounced 'it'?" asked Rosie.

She then came to a startling realization. She should not be so secretive. With the exception of Charlene, had not Hannah and Rosie confided their most significant secrets in her? In a way, she thought, she had never had any real secrets; this was, in other words, the first real one.

"It is Holden. I cannot get him out of my head," she admitted freely.

"Holden?" asked Rosie and Charlene. "Who is he?"

"He is only the most annoying, arrogant, obsessive," she paused, a smile tugged at the corners of her lips. "Most amusing, charming, and handsome gentleman in my acquaintance."

She hesitated and exhaled a sigh of relief. "Wow," she said, "that felt wonderful: letting everything off of my chest."

Practically everyone's mouths were agape in shock. Their very own Rika already had a prospective husband and they did not know it. 

Hannah was thrilled. Charlene founded herself to be quite envious and perhaps even jealous. A/N: I know that the two terms can be deemed as synonymous but I, Reader, believe that there is quite a difference. Rosie, well, she mostly felt selfish and uncaring for having been caught up in her own love life, or lack thereof (on her part of course!).

While everyone was still practically dazed by Rochelle's confession, the pipe organ began to play a well-organized selection for the bridesmaids. Heads immediately snapped to attention. Hannah felt like swooning.

_This is it_, she thought, _my big day_!

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The wedding ceremony went on rather smoothly. The transitions were appropriately carried out. Everything was in synchronization. 

The flower girl tossed the soft rose petals evenly, never too much on one side, and she kept in step with the music. The lovebirds recited their vows in a goodly fashion and were sure to keep pronunciation and enunciation, as well as love, in their tones; however, the love was already there and quite involuntary. The ring bearer brought out the ring, an exquisite diamond ring flanked by four small rubies, at the right time and did not hurry. Mr. Fairfield slid the ring on gently, being sure not to jab her finger into it. And the kiss was perfect.

That night, at the reception, which took place at the newly-built Fairfield Hall's large drawing-room, the room was all abuzz with candles, a string quartet, Mr. Jones at the pianoforte, champagne, hors d'oeuvres, and most importantly, laughter, conversation. and dancing.

"Oh! Excuse me Madame," apologized Charlene as she made her way through the crowd. She had previously drunk one glass of champagne and had deemed it quite potent. She promised herself that she would not make a klutz of herself and so far she had succeeded. She vowed not to have any more to drink.

She found her table, one that mysteriously fitted only her brother, Rosie, the McDermotts, and herself. Sure there was some mischief on Mrs. Fairfield's part.

"So you were in a pokemon duel yesterday?" quirked Rosie with a raised eyebrow.

"Yes."

"Did you win?"

"To my surprise, no; I did not."

"How old was the trainer?"

"The lad could not have been any more than sixteen or seventeen."

"Indeed?"

"Indeed!"

"Which pokemon did he use. Surely it was a strong land type. You used Midnight...am I correct?"

"Not this time. I used a water element: it was the boy's wish. I chose my friend Snapper. He's a Croconaw. We have been together for many years."

"That is good," she said, taking a sip of champagne. My goodness this stuff is strong, she thought. Her eyes began to water and her lip almost puckered.

Skyler's countenance changed drastically. A look of worry dominated his features. His eyebrows were arched, his eyes fixated upon her, his posture poised and alert. "Is there anything wrong."

She laughed. "No! I was realizing how strong the champagne is. What were the Fairfields thinking?"

"Me too."

They smiled. Skyler was feeling all tense and his blood was set afire by her grin. He tugged at his cravat. Rosie had then noticed that he had the most _beautiful_ smile amongst all of the men that she met. She liked the way his dimples showed and how dazzling white they were; they appeared to light up the room.

She checked herself. Why had she not noticed this before? Why had she noticed right then? What could this possibly mean? Nothing, she decided, absolutely nothing.

"So," she said, regaining her senses, "which pokemon was it that you faced?"

"A Seaking! Would you believe—" he hesitated, as he noticed his sister's entrance at the table. "Charlene!"

"Yeah, it is me. I see that you two were heavily engrossed in conversation," she pointed out, flashing an equally handsome smile as her brother.

"About a duel—"

"Yeah," she cut him off, " you told me about it yesterday. Oh wait! There he is," she said as she pointed to him. The beau of her dreams. "I am going to strike up a conversation with him."

Charlene felt like she had been left out of a lot, especially the whole romantic situation. He had paid her no heed for a long time. Her thoughts were occupied by him. Frankly, she believed that if she didn't spark the flame, then she would spend her life as a spinster or in a loveless marriage, filled with the longing of Chadwick.

"Mr. Jones," she said, getting up from her seat to meet him.

He smiled politely and said, "Miss Skyler."

He took her hand and kissed it. 

She melted.

"How are you this evening?" he asked.

"Wonderful," she said a little loudly. "I really enjoyed your playing on the pianoforte."

"Oh really?" This was not the first time that he had heard that, from anyone, and it certainly would not be the last. He groaned inwardly.

"What was it called again?"

"It was the Beedrill Minuet." It was his latest piece.

"You know—"

"No, I do not."

She winced. "I did not finish!" 

People's head snapped to attention and the room was quiet.

She looked around herself. What a crowd have I attracted, she thought. Oh well, I will finish my statement.

Chadwick was flushed.

"What is it?" he hissed.

She fumed. If it was possible, and I suppose that it is, considering that POKEMONãis an anime, steam would have evacuated from her very head.

"What have I done to deserve the brunt of your impoliteness? You are such a coxcomb!" 

With tears in her eyes she stormed out of the drawing-room out of the house, and stole away into the garden, where she could cry in peace.

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Rochelle had been trying to avoid Holden de Belleville for the longest. To be technical, ever since she ran from his yacht, or in other words, away from him. So far, she had succeeded. Luckily, well, in her opinion, he did not know where she resided (in a secluded inn on a dirt road), and where she was at that moment (outside in the garden). Her scheme could not have been any more perfect—well, until he came.

"We have got to talk," he said from behind her.

She turned to flee but he grabbed her arm. "Now!" He said evenly.

She looked at him with remorse, her head cocked to the side, her eyes analyzing his features. He appeared to be genuinely concerned and incredibly serious. A part of her, no matter how much she despised it, her conscience, told her that he was correct. 

"Good, I see that I have your attention."

No response.

"Why did you leave me?"

"I had to."

"Why?" He asked in a surprisingly even tone: one with just enough force.

"I did not like how I felt."

"How did you feel."

"Beautiful," she blurted out.

He was shocked. "What do you mean beautiful? Should not you feel that way everyday when you arise from your slumber?"

"I should but I don't," she said. Then, taking a deep breath she added, "It felt like you needed me and I needed you. You are so desperate—"

"This isn't about _me_, it is about you. You already know how I feel; I've shared my sentiments with you." He then took a deep breath. "How do you feel about me?"

"I feel so many things. Some are good feelings and some are bad; but in all actuality, I like all of those things about you that any other, ordinary woman would despise."

"You are not ordinary; you are _extraodinary_. Never have I met a woman like you."

"Really?"

"Yes!"

She raised an eyebrow, "what do you like about me?"

"I love the way that you walk. I love the way you talk. I love the way your smile fills my heart with desire and joy. I like how violet your hair is. I like how lavender your eyes are. I love how soft your lips are. (She smile embarrassingly.) I love the way you play hard-to-get. What I dislike is that you can wake up without knowing how..._perfect_ you are."

She looked at him, trembling. She had never felt so loved by anyone but her mother. However, this was a different type of love. Someone loved her for who she was and what she could be and what surprised her most was the fact that it happened in such a short time. 

"I think that I am in love," he said, gathering her into a tight embrace. 

She looked into his eyes and realized that she was too, and that she wanted to be his...everything.

His lips met hers...

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"Charlene!" Chad called as he raced outside to find her.

He searched desperately for her. If something happened to her—well, he would be fully responsible. It was his being an ass that caused the whole outburst. Why, just why, did her have to be so insensitive.

What relief flooded through his veins when he saw her sobbing on a stone bench under a large lantern. The lavender silk of her gown becoming dappled with tears, especially that near the neckline.

He saw the look of amazement in her eyes as he approached her. She grabbed her handkerchief and began to apply it to her eyes.

"Here," he said as he stooped down to her eye level. He was a tall man. "Allow me." He cupped her chin with four of his dexterous fingers and used his thumb to wipe away her tears.

She trembled under his touch. He had never done so before. It was oddly invigorating—wait! She was supposed to be infuriated with him. Her lip pouted.

"Miss Skyler—no, Charlene—I am sorry," he said slowly.

"Sorry for what Mr. Jones? For making me feel like a buffoon in front of all of those people? For making me fall in love with you the first time that I heard your voice, your piano, and the first time I saw you? For being nothing but polite, except for today. For showing no emotion? Mr. Jones, I burn for you!"

To some men, she would appear extremely foolish and naive, but to this one, she was anything but.

"I am sorry for any pain that I have caused you."

"Is that it? You are still being brief. I don't like it. How do you feel about what I have just said?"

"I don't know how I feel. All that I know is that I am not enthralled with you and that I do not think the less of you."

"Tell me this: do you feel the same way?" Her eyes were begging for a reply in the affirmative, positively begging.

"I do not know," he said lowering his eyes.

"What do you mean? "

"_I don't know_!"

"You seem to know how many rests are suitable. You seem to know just when to change movements. You know just when to change dynamic markings. Is that all that you know?"

"No," he said quite outraged.

She shrunk back from him.

"What is it Mr. J—"

"Chadwick, Chad, anything but Mr. Jones," he corrected.

"Then what is it Chadwick?"

"Have you ever felt underestimated?"

"Only in pokemon battles."

"How do you feel."

"Rather angry, I suppose."

"That is how I feel! Everyone assumes that all am is a pianist. Can't they see how much genius and work it takes just to do one lousy movement. Can't they see that I had to work to get where I am now. Do not they see that I am so much more?"

"I do."

He smiled, "I know."

"Chadwick," she said, taking off her glove and putting a lovely hand on his face. He stared at her amazedly. "It is obvious that you have some issues. Together we can quell them, can't you see."

"Together?"

"Yes," she said softly, "together."

"How do I even know if I feel that way for you?"

"Well," she lingered, "do you feel anything different when you see me."

"I feel like an ass."

"Well," she gasped, "that was specific."

He chuckled.

She put her finger to her chin, "perhaps there is a way."

"Tell me!"

In a fluid movement, she wrapped her arms around his neck and smothered his lips with hers. She slid her tongue into his mouth and tussled with his own, replying, tongue. She craved him. She needed him to feel normal, to feel sane. Then, about a minute later, she pulled away.

"Now how do you feel about me?"

He noticed the intense throbbing in his loins and the way his senses went haywire. He saw how beautiful she was, how much she dreamt of this kiss. He loved the feel of her firm derriere. He heard her soft moans of desire. He craved her scent of peaches and cream. And he tasted her need. He'd never felt this before and was sure that this was unique only to her.

"You're _the one_."

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Holden practically dragged Rochelle up to the large table in the center of the drawing-room. He hopped up there with ease and quickly grabbed a fork and a champagne glass, and began to rap upon it.

"May I have your attention ladies and gentlemen?"

All attention turned upon him.

"Come here," he urged.

"Holden, I d—"

"Come on. I want everyone to know."

He pulled her onto the table. She dazed at the tabletop, observing how neat the intricate crisscross patterns of the wood was.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I would like to announce that Lady Rochelle Carlyle and I, Holden de Belleville, will become betrothed on the Sunday next in Stonybrooke Mansion (A/N: I changed the name) on Dew Island."

Then, he swept her into a mighty kiss that left her week in the knees.

The crowd erupted in applause and cheering.

A similar announcement was made soon after...

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_Ah, everyone is so eager to tie the knot, everyone, that is, except Rosamunde Fierra. Will she live out her life as a spinster or better yet, an old maid? The new mistresses will try their hand at wifehood whilst Rosie settles in at Calendula Manor. Please read and review! --The Sapphire Prince _


	8. Realizations

+-Love in the Flower Archipelago: Rosie's Love Life

Written by the Sapphire Prince

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Previously:

In the last chapter, Hannah was married to her longtime sweetheart, Joshua Fairfield and hosted a reception in the expanse of her drawing room at Fairfield Hall. Skyler had nothing more than polite conversation on a subject that they both like. After avoiding Holden for a day, Rochelle realized how much she cares for him and they get a short engagement, long enough to make preparations. Chadwick and Charlene discussed their feelings and shared a searing kiss; they too became engaged. Shows a great deal of love at first sight. Now Rosie is at Calendula Manor...

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****

Chapter Seven

Rosie had been settled at Calendula Manor for two months now, making preparations for the arrival and counting the days until it finally occurred. Yes, Peony McDermott was to give birth in just a few short days. If one thought that Mr. McDermott was excessive before, then one could cease to be amazed at his behavior then.

He had utterly imprisoned his wife in her bed, making sure that all she needed was provided for. He did not want her to have any discomfort during the birthing process. Peony desperately wanted to take a walk, or wash some dishes, or maybe even cook a meal, which was now Rosie's chore.

Every day she would make something different. It was her idea in the first place. If she were to be a good wife, she would have to know how to cook unless she had someone else do it for her, which was not what she wanted. Therefore, she had asked her aunt's chef, Mr. Collins, to tutor her.

He surveyed her every maneuver and taught her new culinary techniques. He praised each endeavor that was a success and even gave her an embroidered apron as a gift. He taught her how to make dessert too.

When she was not cooking, she was out exploring the small town of Calendula. There were tiny, homely shops that lined the gray cobblestone roads. She quickly became acquainted with a fabric shop, called Grey's, which was ran by a young married couple, the Greys, and was frequently invited for tea at their apartment above the store.

There was also a large pasture enclosed by a dense pocket of woods a mile outside of the town. She had yet to explore it but she was sure that when she did, it would all be worthwhile.

She also wrote correspondence letters to her married friends. Hannah and Joshua were doing fine, Lady Rochelle and Sir Holden were too, and Chadwick and Charlene were too. The latter couple was out on tour, Chadwick had discovered that his wife was spectacular on the violin and sought out to teach her the mechanics of composing music.

She could not help but feel left out. Here were her friends, all happily settled with spouses while she wasn't even sure if she could think of Skyler in anything but a friendly way. She had decided that the Prince was out of the question, and for some reason, there were no other eligible bachelors to be found. Perhaps Fate had turned against her and had decided that Skyler was the only one that she could ever be with. Or maybe, she was simply in the wrong village at the wrong time. 

Whatever it was, she wanted it all to come to an end. She was tired of being alone, only seeking comfort in friends and family. She had even decided that, if Skyler were to ask anytime soon, she would accept his offer, just for the sake of not being alone in this world.

If she could not love him as a woman loves a man, then she was certain that she could love him as a friend loves another friend. 

Sometimes, however, she found herself thinking about him: she thought of where he might be and what he might be doing. She did not know how to categorize this, so she quickly placed it in the category of pure, simple concern.

This was all very confusing indeed, this whole love business. No wonder not all people experienced true love. Rosie considered those people the lucky ones and placed herself in that category.

If only the telephone had yet been invented...she would call Rochelle right about now...

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"Good morning Honey," said Holden as he kissed Rochelle's cheek. He then arose from his bed and put on his robe. For it to be early summer, it was still a little brisk outside, much too cold to walk around scantily clothed.

"Morning," she mumbled from the bed. A slow smile engulfed her face, first on her lips, then her cheeks, and lastly her eyes. "Did you have a good night's rest?"

"How could I not with you sleeping with me?"

"I know," she said seductively, "it was incredible."

"I'd say."

They laughed together.

It had been about seven weeks since they had become truly intimate. Rochelle wasn't completely ignorant of what went on between a man and his wife, nonetheless, her mother still had to fulfill her motherly duty and fill her in.

She told her of the act itself, and that it can be good or bad depending how much experience your husband has, and on how much you both care one another. She had had a very unpleasant experience, she told her; for she did not love her husband and nor did he love her: it was strictly a marriage of convenience. She said that Rochelle was sure to have a pleasant experience considering the fact that she and Holden are enamored of one another; therefore, he was sure to be very gentle. And he was.

She had not missed her monthly courses, so she knew that she was not pregnant. Besides, once she was a few months into the pregnancy, it would all have to stop, and she did not exactly think the idea at all pleasing.

"I have some bad news for you," Holden said, bringing their mirth to a halt.

"What ever could it be?" She asked, growing tense.

"My mother wrote to me and asked us to visit her."

She exhaled in relief. She had thought someone had died or was ill. A sudden shudder ran through her body and she cringed. Something was not right, and she just couldn't put her finger on it.

"What is it?" he asked, clasping her hand in his,

"Nothing," she said disbelievingly, "nothing at all." Then, changing the subject, "what is so bad about meeting your mother?"

"Everything."

She grunted, "I am sure that if she is anything like you then...I could deal with her."

"You don't know my mother. She's the most opinionated woman—better make that person—alive! What was that that you said?" His eyebrow raised.

"Oh nothing."

"It was something about dealing with her if she was like me." She said nothing. "Is that all that you do?"

"You know that I was just joking around," she got up and caressed his cheek. "Holden, I love you."

"I know that you were kidding," he said with a grin, "but it tickles me when you get all serious and sentimental."

She punched him in the arm, "and I thought my days of sickness were over. Looks like you didn't cure them like you said that you would."

"Are you pregnant?" he asked curiously.

"No!" she ejaculated, "the sickness that I had when you were...uh courting me."

"Oh, that one. I did cure it. It is just that you need another dose of medicine."

"Indeed?"

"Indeed."

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"Well," asked Hannah, "how is it?"

Joshua hesitantly pushed the bowl away from eating range and clutched his stomach. "I could not _possibly_ eat any more."

"It was that good?"

"_It was that bad_," he mumbled under his breath, "yeah!"

"I know, I had some myself. I am working on it...pretty soon I'll be as good a chef as my mother."

"Right," he said sarcastically, "well, I mean, I hope so, for the baby's sake."

"You are right," she said, holding her gently swelling belly. They had been intimate more than a month before the marriage, after all, they practically lived with one another then. So, in about six months, their child would be born.

"I am always so flushed nowadays," said Hannah as she looked in the looking glass in her parlor.

"It is the baby bringing out all of your extra beauty," he said as he hugged her from behind. He twirled a curly tendril of titian hair round his finger. He loved the way that those two trademarked tendrils framed her face.

She smiled in satisfaction. To think, she would be having something that she produced to love and take care of; it was an incredible feeling. And having a person that you love to share the duties with made it all the better.

"Do we have any engagements planned this evening?" she asked.

"Well, aside from your mother and father's daily call, I believe that there are no engagements."

"Well," she said, "I guess that I better right to Rosie. She sent me a letter last week."

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Mrs. Hannah Fairfield

2 Road Woodbine 

Fairfield Hall, Star Fruit Isle

Dear Rosamunde,

Good afternoon. How are you feeling today? I hope that you are well. Oh, I am such a happy soul as of late. I was not sure at first, but when my 'friend' had been gone for over a month, I knew that it was a reality. If you have not figured it out by now, I would like to announce, that I have conceived; I am carrying a child. Such a wonderful feeling this is...to know that one, a petite woman like myself, is going to bring forth another human being...is the most best sensation in the world...

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Rosie sighed as the letter dropped from her hand. It was good news indeed, yet she could not deny that sinking feeling of envy in her mind. She wanted what Hannah had, she had now realized that. 

It was startling to think that she was a tad jealous, better make that wholly jealous of her best friend. She realized that she was way in the beginning, she had just denied. She pitied herself for being so foolish, and when one pities oneself, then that person better do something about it before things get serious.

But what was she going to do? She had always thought that someone should let things run their courses and go with the flow, but if she wanted this, would there be any harm in try to make things go a little faster?

Well, for one, if she were more forward, then she could be possibly given a horrible label. She did not want that, but if she got what she wanted, a happy situation in life, would it all be worth it?

She groaned.

She heard a high-pitched squeal in the room down the hall. She perked to attention and rushed out of her window seat. It was surely her Aunt, and she needed her assistance.

"_Oh my God_! She cried as she writhed in her bed. Her sheets were pulled back and her legs kicked frantically.

"Aunt Peony!"

"_Get him_!"

The doctor lived just about a mile away. She couldn't run to it and back in a short amount of time. Perhaps if she hitched a horse she could—

"_NOW_!"

She hurried out of the house and ran to the stables, where Mr. McDermott was walking out of.

"Your wife needs you now, go to her. I need your horse!"

"What?"

"_She's in labor_!"

"Oh!" He sprinted across the lawn and into the house.

Rosie grabbed the closest horse that she could reach and attempted to gallop to Dr. Murphy's house. Unfortunately, the horse was stubborn, and walked a steady pace the whole. If she did not respect animals, then she would have hit it. She just gritted her teeth and bared it.

By the time she and the doctor arrived, the babe had already been born. 

Aunt Peony sat there, her hair plastered to her face, the baby clinging to her firm bosom, a wry smile on her face. It was a smile that signified that she was relieved that it was finally over.

Her husband was passed out on the floor. The doctor spent more time reviving him with some smelling salts than he did with Peony.

Rosie marveled her aunt's strength. To think that she might be doing this one day.

"How are you?" she asked.

"I'm fine, the baby is too," she lifted her baby into the air. "Do you want to hold her?"

"Of course," she said. It had been more than five years since she held an infant, not since she was eighteen. The fitted the baby into the hollow of her elbow and rocked her gently.

She was a sweet little cherub, the baby was. She had pudgy little cheeks that were tinged with pink. Her blue eyes shone like jewels and her little mouth was in the shape of an O. She cooed as Rosie stroked her curly pink hair.

"What are you going to call her?"

Peony looked at her husband, "why don't you decide Honey?"

He scratched his chin, "uh...how about Phoebe?"

"That's a beautiful name!"

The footman walked into the room and said, "you have two callers. He bears the name of Skyler."

"Skyler!"

Rosie quickly gave the babe to her father and hurried down the stairs into the parlor where he awaited. Before she got there, she quickly braided her loose hair into a long, braided ponytail. 

Skyler twiddled his thumbs as he waited for her to arrive. He had seen her walking on a horse with the doctor. He had been afraid that his presence would not be welcomed in Calendula Manor, but he guessed that he was wrong because here Rosie was, looking like an angel in the doorway.

"Skyler," she said, almost looking like she was searching for words to say, "I have been expecting your visit. I'm glad that you're here. Would you like some refreshments?"

"I feel likewise Rosie. And no, I would not like any, I had a lunch at an inn just a half of an hour ago."

"I see..."

"So, did your aunt give birth yet?"

"Yes, she did," she said, "to a beautiful baby girl. Her name is Phoebe and she is one of the cutest babies that I've ever seen!"

"That is well," he said. "I know that it is all very sudden, but, would you like to go on a walk with me?"

"Uh, sure...my aunt and uncle need time with the baby anyways. I had better change into another dress; would you mind waiting here for a few moments?"

"Not at all."

"All right, you will not be waiting long." With that, she hurried upstairs and put on a comfortable cotton frock with a pink rose pattern on it. Elle watched her as she did so.

"Would you like to come Eleanor?"

No, thank you. I would rather you two be alone. 

"All right."

She headed downstairs and she and Skyler walked out the door, after telling the footman that she need not a chaperone, and that she would be not be out for too long.

Skyler offered her arm and she linked her arm with his and they set off at a leisurely pace.

"Skyler," she began, "would you mind if I called you Freddie?"

He was taken aback: it was an odd question. "Only Charlene and my mother and father call me that."

She cringed inside, he still did not know.

"You wouldn't mind if I did nonetheless?"

"Of course not, do whatever pleases you," he said.

"All right Freddie."

"So, what have you done to amuse yourself here in Calendula?"

"I met an adorable couple who runs a fabric shop. They're young too and so well-matched. They're deeply in love with one another."

And I am deeply in love with you, he muttered.

"Indeed? Love binds us all you know?"

"Yeah...it does. You are a true romantic I suppose."

"And you are not? A person of your gravity is not a romantic?"

"I _thought_ that I was a long time ago," she said, her eyes focusing on the cobblestone road.

"What brought about the change?" he asked, growing worried.

"All sorts of things."

"Things that you do not care to talk about at this moment, I gather."

"You are correct."

"Maybe one day you will be able to confide your secrets in me. Is it that you do not trust me as a friend ought to trust another friend?"

"Freddie, that is not it. I have not even told my women friends. Do not fret about it, you are a very trustworthy sort of gentleman."

He smiled, "someday you will trust me, as you ought."

"Perhaps." She kicked a random stone as she walked. 

She noticed that they had just walked out of town and were now making there way into a large, open meadow flecked with blue, pink, and white wildflowers.

"Incredible! Do you see that herd of Rapidash and Ponyta?" beamed Skyler as he pointed at them.

"Indeed," she said, mesmerized by the sight of blazing horses. Sometimes, when she was little and trying to sleep, she would think of Rapidash jumping over a creak. When she reached the number fifty, she would go to sleep. She just had to have one.

She took a free, empty pokeball from her necklace.

"I am going to capture one of them," she said. 

"Me too," said Skyler, already prepared.

"Which pokemon are you going to use?" she asked.

"Midnight, the Umbreon, how about you?"

"An Espeon, his name is Eos, I changed it a few months ago, it was Dawn before."

"Good choice," he said.

"Release," they said in unison.

The two feline-like pokemon came forth and greeted one another. They seemed to be familiar with one another, perhaps they had come from the same litter. 

Brother! I knew that it was you! cried Midnight.

Incredible, we are together again. 

Maybe we'll be together forever if... 

If my trainer marries yours, Eos finished.

I hope so. 

"Which one are you going to capture?" he asked.

She surveyed the grazing pokemon. She noticed that one of them, the leader, was staring at them with fierce eyes. The stallion stamp his feet and snorted.

"I want that one."

"Good luck he looks angry—look out! He's coming right at us!" He leapt out and tackled Rosie just before the pokemon rushed her. She groaned as she hit the ground and rubbed her arm as she got up.

"Thanks," she said with a warm smile. It was a good thing that she wasn't a prissy girl. She didn't mind working for what she wanted, getting dirty in the process.

"I'm going to get that one," he said, pointing to the matriarch, the dominant female. She was ready to charge also.

"Eos, I am going to try a different approach to this one. It is similar to a horse, and I don't want him to fear me, so inflict minimal pain."

Right. 

"Disable him!" She cried.

Eos's eyes turned green as a green aura surrounded the creamy stallion as he was lifted in the air. He bleated in bemusement. He tried to kick but his legs were frozen. Then he flung it a few feet and it skidded to the ground, but it quickly got up.

He grunted as he pawed the ground as he spewed a flame at Eos. A green barrier surrounded him and the fire was blown upwards. Then, he charged at him, but Eos agilely maneuvered himself. Thinking that Eos wasn't paying attention, he fired a devastating kick, only to meet a hard shield that blasted him a few feet.

He panted heavily.

Eos then used a hypnosis and the reluctant Rapidash fell asleep.

"Go pokeball!"

The beast was sucked into the pokeball and the red light immediately shut off, for the pokemon was asleep, and could not put up a struggle. Rosie cheered for her pokemon and jumped for joy.

"I've got her, good job Midnight," he said, patting his head. 

They walked away, admiring their pokemon's prowess and devotion. Rosie tossed her sphere to and fro as she walked.

"That was very impressive, Freddie."

"Not nearly as much as yours."

"They were both very good. I want to see him," she said dispelling her pokemon from its ball. It looked disgruntled and highly angry, not all ready to become friends with her.

"Hello," she said gently.

He snorted his reply.

"So you don't want to talk to me? That is well. Actions speak louder than words anyways.

Skyler looked at her quizzically. _What the deuce is she talking about_, he wondered.

She noticed an said, "you have a _lot _to learn about me."

"Indeed."

"You're a handsome Rapidash. Do you like the name Diablo?" she asked.

Hmph...it's all right. I'll take it, he scoffed.

She ran her fingers along his creamy hide. She had the sudden urge to hug him, she had always dreamt of it. She didn't fight the urge, and she wrapped her arms around his neck. Diablo tensed up and she had the vague feeling that something was on fire. Her head became suddenly warm. 

"Rosie! You're on fire," he cried. 

She screamed as she tried to pat out the flames that scorched the bodice of her frock and her skirt and, much to her dismay, her hair. 

"_My hair_!" she cried. 

Everything was heating up, and she was sure that her skin would be burnt next until—

Skyler tackled her to the ground and began to roll her around in the dirt. She squealed as she felt the prickly reeds scratching her skin and she noticed that more than half of her dress was gone. She cried out. She was practically naked and her hair was scorched, whatever could be worse? and all in front of a gentleman. 

She shoved off of him and covered her exposed breasts. She returned her pokemon with a grimace and met Skyler's eyes.

"Rosie—I was only trying to—"

She fled the scene as fast as she could.


	9. A Mask Changes Everything

Love in the Flower Archipelago: Rosie's Love Life

Written by the Sapphire Prince

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Previously:

In the last chapter, Rosie coped with being single. Hannah told Rosie that she was expecting in a letter. Holden announced that he and Lady de Belleville were to visit his overbearing mama. Peony had her child, Penelope McDermott. Skyler called on Rosie, they went on a walk and captured two Rapidash. Diablo, Rosie's Rapidash, didn't trust her yet, and set her hair and clothes on fire. She was highly disheveled in front of Skyler, who tried to help, but she ran away. This chapter, the famed masquerade is in session.

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****

Chapter Eight

The Durham masquerade was all that was everyone's lips the week after Penelope McDermott was born. The Durham family hosted this ball each year on the Saturday of the second weekend of July and it was all the rage. 

To most young women, this was the highlight of their existence. They become someone, or something, and wore a mask, behaving any which way they wanted to, and having the option of not revealing themselves. It was the single most invigorating day of their entire year. 

Well, except Rosie; but she was not a permanent resident in Calendula anyways. Nonetheless, it was still exciting and something very different from her usual days, preparing meals, holding the baby, and helping to make clothing for her.

It was all good to her, but she did it every day and everyone gets tired of doing the same old routine.

Actually, she did have someone else plaguing her thoughts. It takes no effort to guess who it was. All that she could think of was his shocked expression and how hurt he look when she ran away.

She questioned her behavior, debating on whether it was the correct thing to do. She realized that she was embarrassed to be in that horrible state of dishabille, as would any respectable young woman. And, much to her surprise, she had not wanted him to see her the lest bit naked until after they were married; if, she even had a chance now.

What disturbed her most was the fact that he had not called on her to see how she was fairing. Any honorable gentleman would have done so, but Freddie was much more than honorable, he was understanding. 

He must have known that he was the last person that she wanted to see, especially when her hair was a burnt mess. Therefore, he staid lodged in his hotel, and training his Rapidash, Inferno, to pass the days until the masquerade commenced.

She thought of how Peony and her uncle reacted once she revealed herself, and laughed. 

Firstly, she had run straight up to her chamber and rung the bell for a servant. Whilst she waited, Eleanor questioned her thoroughly, making sure that nothing was being kept from her. Once the servant arrived, looking as if she were about to burst out in laughter, Rosie asked her to fill up the bathtub. Once that task was completed, she bathed herself and washed her mangled hair and put on a fresh white frock.

A knock had sounded on her door and she allowed her uncle in, who promptly _screamed_ when he saw her hair, and told her that her aunt wished to see her.

Reluctantly, she marched into her room, where Penny was lying on her mother, asleep. Penelope took one look at her and stifled a scream.

"_What happened_?" she demanded.

"My Rapidash set me on fire. It was my fault really: I should not have been so foolish. One would think that I would have known better, considering that I have been training for the longest time."

"And where was Skyler at this time?" she asked, rather infuriately.

"He saved me. He tackled me—"

"_Tackled_?"

"...Yes, to the ground. He used his hands and rolled me to stop my dress from burning and he threw dirt in my hair to stop the flame. He saved my life. I do not know what my fate would have been without him. He is my hero now that I think of it."

"The only thing we need to think about is finding you a hairdresser. We will have to get that cut into a fashionable style and if I were you, I would not accept his call, if he dares to show his face."

"I am pretty sure that he won't. He's rather efficient when it comes to knowing human and pokemon behavior. He seems the type to place himself in my shoes."

"Are you in love with him?" The question was random. 

Rosie's gaze met Peony's raised eyebrow, and said, "I do not know."

"What do you mean that you do not know? Either you do or you do not, it is as simple as that."

"It is not simple," she hissed, "you, who have experienced love, should know, of all people."

"I think that you have known him long enough to decide."

"Well, I am not; but if he were to ask, I believe I would accept."

"Why, Rosie?" Peony bleated, "why you ever do such a thing?"

"For the sake of not being alone."

"That's nonsense! A marriage should be based on a foundation of love, if that's not there, then what is there to fall back on?"

"Friendship," she replied. "I believe that you must be someone's friend before you can truly love them."

"What if you find that you cannot love him?"

"Then..." she stammered, her gaze anywhere but her aunt's eyes. "Then I shall have to grit my teeth and bare it. Besides, I am sure that we would have children; I could love them."

"You sound so stupid Rosamunde, completely unlike the niece that I so adored."

Rosie winced. Perhaps she did deserve this.

"My niece would not settle for a marriage like that: a marriage barren of love."

"I am your niece, Aunt Peony. I believe that I _could_ love him Aunt Peony, I just do not right now."

"Maybe you do and you just cannot tell right now."

"I doubt it."

Peony groaned, "I am not in the position to argue with you. We sound like two sisters."

"I have always thought of you as a sort of big sister."

Peony smiled and stifled a tear, "that is so sweet. I thought of you as a little sister. When one is the youngest, one always wants someone to call little instead of being called that oneself."

They embraced one another. "I cannot stop you from doing this. It might be a mistake, it might not. That's for you to decide. You are in control of your own fate."

"Thanks for realizing that."

"Well," she said, stroking her child's head ever so gently, "I will have to confine you to our premises until the _modiste_ comes."

"I'd gladly stay here."

"Good."

"Well, you had better get some rest, I will bring you some supper in a few hours." With that she had left the room and closed the door behind her. She slumped up against it. Why did she feel this way? she had thought.

Rosie's mirth ended after she thought of her discussion with her Aunt. She decided that she was a fool and a shameless one at that. 

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Charlene, or rather Mrs. Jones, expertly rubbed her bow over the strings of her violin as she practiced for the next concert that she was to be in with her husband, Chadwick.

This life suited her, she thought. They traveled to many different places in the islands, places she had never been to like the Scattered Isles. The experience was invigorating and who else was there more perfect to experience it with than the man of her dreams?

Chadwick was an attentive husband. He made sat down when she took her lessons with the tutor. He told her his honest opinion on her performances. He helped compose music. He pleased her in more ways than one. He was the perfect husband in her estimation.

Right then, Chadwick sat on the golden damask sofa of their house, Portland Manor, on Hydrangea Island. He listened intently, admiring her natural grace in the way she moved her limb, and her posture, so upright, never slouching. He could tell that she was really concentrating.

"Ugh!" she grunted as she hit a sour note. "I always mess up on that part."

"This is the concerto right?"

"Yes, the Donphan Song. I know that it is supposed to be _adagio_ and _mezzo-forte_, but where I have to go into the rapid sixteenth notes, signifying it performing a roll-out, I always mess up. I cannot do _allegro_ very well. I have to work on it."

"Oh," he nodded understandingly. 

He sauntered over and squeezed her shoulder affectionately. "I am confident that you'll be able to achieve your goal. The song is already complete, you just have to master playing it."

"I know, I know." She shook her head. "I do not think that I would have ever gotten into this if I hadn't married you. I cannot believe that I've played in concerts alongside yourself. Everything has been a blur."

"One gets used to it after awhile. When one is in demand, then one must keep one's audience satisfied."

"Do not you ever grow weary of this lifestyle? Do not you ever wish to settle down and just relax?"

"Of course I do." 

"Then why don't we do it? We have been on tour for two months already!"

"Are you complaining?"

"No, it is just that—"

"But you are," he scoffed. "Are you not happy?"

"I am happy, truly. I just want to stay put and explore my surroundings is all. It seems like all that we ever do is play music. I love music, but I want to do other things: _wifely_ things."

"Like what?"

"I do not know—crochet, maybe. Embroider handkerchief, make us clothing," she muttered under her breath, "raise a family."

"_I heard that!"_

"Well?"

"You know that if we do that then I won't be able to be as good a father as I would like to be if I am performing."

"Then stop performing."

"_Never_; it is my livelihood," he hissed.

"For God's sake Chadwick, we're wealthy! We have a fat bank account! We could do nothing for the rest of our lives and still live comfortably!" she exclaimed.

"I do not like being idle."

"Then let's make a farm or better yet...you could just write music."

"It is a good idea but it is me who the fans want."

"_Insolent man_! how proud can you be! If your audience hasn't dwindled since you married me, meaning that you were no longer available, then it won't ever do so."

She had a point.

"What do you want from me?" he asked, throwing his hands up.

"I want you Chadwick Jones. I want you, nothing occupying your time but me. Is that so much to ask?"

He didn't answer.

"Let us just try it for six months or so, okay?"

Still no answer.

She got up and clutched his face in her hands, and stared into his immense blue eyes, the very eyes that drove her senses crazy every night. "Do it for me Chadwick; I promise, you _won't _regret it." 

She could feel him loosen up.

She sealed the deal with a kiss.

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The glittery midnight blue fabric shone like a ray of light in Rosie's hands as she admired her handiwork. She sighed contentedly.

She had purchased this fabric at Grey's early that beautiful morning and bought all of the material that she needed for that evening. This included some sheer, gossamer like fabric and some material to make her mask out of, as well as a black, elastic band.

After she left Grey's, she had scurried over to the coiffure shop and purchased some blond dye and a blue streaking kit. She had to be sure that nobody, absolutely nobody would notice that it was her.

Her aunt and uncle had already left, but little Penelope was left with Rosie, for she had shown no inclination towards going the entire time. However, Rosie had cleverly trusted her into the care of Mrs. Jenkins, the housekeeper, and went about making her costume.

She was to be a fairy queen. 

The midnight blue dress was, as heretofore mentioned, very shiny and moderately stretchy. It had silvery blue ruffles that encased the square-neck, spiraled down, with very much space in between the ruffles, only enough for a single twist, to the hem. Here, it encircled it. It was altogether scandalous, much ahead of her time.

The matched mask was decorated with blue and silver sequins and covered everything but her mouth, which she painted with matching blue lipstick. Underneath the mask she wore a touch a turquoise eye-shadow in order to make her own eyes appear darker.

Done with her makeup, Rosie stepped away from her mirrored vanity and took off her robe. She pulled the dress on from her feet, poked her arms through the holes, and adjusted herself. She looked at the looking glass and immediately concluded that the dress fit her like a sin and she would drive many people, both men and women, crazy.

She positioned the gossamer wings on her back and stepped into her cobalt French heels. 

She smiled as she looked at her new haircut and coloring. The _modiste_ had cut it up to her shoulder, and feathered it. Then she advised Rosie to do whatever she pleased with it from there. Rosie had wisely left it as it was in front of her aunt. After she left, Rosie died it a platinum blond and streaked it with midnight blue. Then, she flipped the ends up, thenceforth completing her coiffure.

Lastly she applied her mask, thus completing her costume.

"How do I look?"

Ellie and Dew were speechless.

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I should have known better than to think that Rosie would have been at a gathering like this, Skyler thought as scanned the ballroom, she's probably trying to avoid me.

The room was spectacular in more ways then one. There were exquisite chandeliers, full of candles suspended midway in the air. The tables were covered with white cloth and golden silverware. And the people, were at their best in their costumes.

Skyler himself had been a bit daring in his own costume. He was dressed as a Grecian deity, Zeus to be exact. He wore a white muslin cloth, edged with gold and green ribbon that covered his lower body. On his torso, he was bare, showing off his chiseled bronze physique. His newly cropped spiky hair, was crowned by a crown of green leaves, and he wore a simple white mask that covered only his eyes. His black tattoo from the Navy, of an anchor, complimented his bulging bicep very well, and complemented his entire costume.

Nobody knew that it was him, not even Peony and Mr. McDermott. He had even sustained conversation with them and they could pick up on his identity. He had adopted a deeper, more baritone voice instead of his normal bass.

To make things even more complicated, for he was saddened by Rosie's absence, was the fact that young debutantes kept flocking towards him and making excuses to touch his body. Each one was shameless as it is, they made things worse by giggling and babbling like idiots and making him dance with them. 

When the clock stroke eleven, just when the doors were about to close, Rosie arrived unfashionably late and hid amongst the shadows. 

Skyler's attention riveted from a beaming redhead's face, to the voluptuous figure of the pronounced mystery woman. His breath was swept away, and he knew that she was special and he just had to speak with her and dance with her.

"I am sorry but please excuse me," he said as he walked away.

The smile vanished off the girls face. She shrugged unaffectedly and sat down with her mama.

A crowd had engulfed the woman, showering her with compliments. She smiled graciously, but when he got nearer her gaze met his, and she smiled seductively. His heart skipped a beat and he blood grew hot and if he had a collar he would have tugged at it.

He made his way to her, the other men realizing that she had her sights on him, thus backing away, and took her hand and stamped it with a kiss. The way his eyes focused so intently made Rosie's stomach do unusual things.

"Good evening Mademoiselle," he said in his new voice, "would you savor me a waltz?"

"Of course," she said, her voice more raspier, more sensual as she took her hand. 

He led her to the floor, turning everyone's head and settled his hand on her hip, which caused her to shudder uncharacteristically, and intertwined his fingers with hers, and led her into the dance.

They twirled and twirled, the world spinning around them. However, they only stared deeply into each other's eyes, paying no heed to anything but one another. 

Something was vaguely familiar about those eyes, Skyler deduced; yet, he could not place his finger upon it.

Rosie knew that it was him, and was amazed at how good it felt to have him so near her. It sent shivers down her spines when she first saw him, looking like he could actually be a deity. She hadn't known what perfection was under that handsome Navy coat until then, and she hadn't known how good he looked with short, spiky hair.

When he had danced with her four times, twice as many which seems proper for an unmarried woman, he led her outside to the balcony, which overviewed the ocean. Candles were everywhere and the moon was delightfully full. A full silver moon right on the horizon on the sea...how perfect—how romantic.

"Who are you?" he wondered.

"You will know when the clock strikes twelve," she said.

It was eleven forty-five right then.

"I do not know if I can wait that long."

In the back of his mind, he knew that he should not even be here, with this mystery woman with blonde and blue hair. He was for Rosie not her, yet his emotions were getting the best of him.

She shushed him by placing a gloved finger to his lips. She pinched her right glove with her left, at the fingers, and pulled the silk glove off. She stroked his face with her fingers, making him glad that he wore confining underwear under his, almost-loincloth.

"_Patience is the key to life_," she whispered.

They stared at each other in silence for a few moments. He leant forward and whispered in her ear, the heat of his breath made her shiver in ecstasy. "I just have to figure out who you are. Your eyes are vaguely familiar."

He looked at his watch. It was eleven fifty-seven: almost time.

"Hold me."

He secured his arms around her waist, her body positively melded into his own. He leant down and brushed his lips on hers, arousing a weird knot in her stomach. Was this love or just desire?

Whatever it was, she wanted more of it. 

He wondered what demon had possessed him to take such liberties with a woman he did not know, especially when he cared for Rosamunde.

He kissed her again, this time longer, causing time to stand still. His hands cupped her derriere and squeezed, her lips parted and his tongue met hers and tousled with one another. Her breathing became labored and her bosom heaved and the knot grew tighter. Her hands caressing the bare skin of his back—

_The clock stroke twelve._

"_It is time_," she said.

She pushed herself away from him.

"Yes," he said, "it is."

He pulled off his mask, his stony eyes eager to see who this _femme fatale _was. 

Rosie slowly slipped off her mask, revealing her beautiful face. She still puzzled him nonetheless.

"I still do not know you, but I am feeling very...different," he admitted.

She slapped him across his face, she did not know why, but she just did. 

He clutched his face, much more in surprise than in pain. "What was that—"

"How dare you?"

"How dare I what?" he asked confusedly. 

"Kiss me."

"I am sorry Mademoiselle if I dishonored—"

"It is I, Rosie!" she interrupted.

"Rosie, but how?"

"Makeup Skyler, makeup and hair coloring!"

He blushed. "I-I-I'm-I'm—"

"Save it Freddie." She paced around the balcony. "I do not know why, but I felt something tonight and I have been debating on whether it was love or just desire."

He frowned.

"I decided that it was both," she said staring him in the eyes.

He breathed a sigh of relief.

"But how dare you—I mean, what if it wasn't me?"

"Rosie," he retorted, "you have been giving me mixed signals. My feelings got the best of me."

"I am truthfully sorry for being such a b—"

"Stop."

She looked into his eyes and she melted. "I think that I am in love with you. It took me a long time to realize it but I do now—"

He smothered her with a kiss that rendered her breathless. 

"Then marry me," he said pulling out a velvet box and a ring.

"Now?—" she asked but was quickly silenced by the immense beauty of the ring.

"I cannot—"

"You can."

"But..." she stammered.

"Please so yes or no."

She sighed, "I will have you now and forever."

He beamed, his dimples more pronounced than ever, which made her melt once more. 

"We have to get married tomorrow."

"Tomorrow! What about my mother and—"

"It is the _only _way. I have to go back to the Navy Rosie, and I need you with me. I couldn't bare to have a long engagement. Who knows when I would come back, and if I would come back."

"Skyler, I—"

"Do you want to spend your life with me, like I want to do with you?"

"I guess so."

"Yes or no!"

"Yes, I do."

"Then, we must marry and leave tomorrow."

"I will do it Frederic Skyler."

They then sealed the deal with a kiss. Rosie could have sworn that she saw a shooting star. She wished that they shall live in marital bliss, until their dying days...

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THIS IS THE LAST CHAPTER OF LOVE IN THE FLOWER ARCHIPELAGO: ROSIE'S LOVE LIFE. —THE SAPPHIRE PRINCE


	10. The Epilogue

Love in the Flower Archipelago: Rosie's Love Life

Written by the Sapphire Prince

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The Epilogue

It has been a long journey for Rosamunde Fierra to truly discover how she felt about love, life, and most importantly Skyler. In the beginning, she refused to be courted by anyone, refusing to believe the gossip that surrounded she and Skyler. She falsely considered the Prince as a possible suitor, as did Rochelle, who, once she met Holden, completely dropped the entire idea. And finally, trying to decipher the weird feelings that she had when sometimes around Mr. Skyler and accepting his proposal, not caring about the consequences. It has been a harrowing journey to self-realization indeed.

So, in this epilogue, I would like to further evaluate each character's life after the last chapter, for I am afraid that I did not write more to explain every new situation that I introduced.

Firstly, I will start with the royalty.

The sovereign, Queen Grace, soon after met a Duke, the Duke of Hawthorne and fell deeply in love with him. She did not abdicate her thrown to marry him, after all, she was the queen and had long since decided that one should marry who one pleases. She had one child, Princess Bethany, who became queen, once the queen died of a bout of pneumonia, at the young age of sixteen. She reigned for a long time, about twenty years, being called the Chastity Queen, having never married. She decided that her uncle had better have a chance.

Prince Burke had long since married an opera sing name, Florence Camden and had one boy and one girl, Prince Harold and Princess Valerie, who each ruled for ten years after his death. He still held a soft for Rosamunde Fierra, and sent her a bouquet of golden roses to her door every day that that party took place on.

The monarchy itself has not vanished, it has simply had some power taken out of it. Flora, most frequently just referred to as the Flower Archipelago nowadays, is presently a constitutional monarchy, run in much the same way as the United Kingdom.

I will now go on to the Fierra clan.

Mr. and Mrs. Fierra lived long, dutiful lives. They had long since begat Rosie, and at a time when they thought Mrs. Fierra would not give birth again, gave birth to the triplets, Evan, Julian, and Rosalynne. They donated money to charities and organizations and did their best as parents, encouraging each child to do as he/she pleased. 

Mr. and Mrs. Fierra did not agree with the way Rosie ran away with Skyler and got married and did not tell her until a week afterwards, but they did not mind at all. They considered Skyler to be an honorable man and was sure that his intentions were pure. And Mrs. Fierra was overjoyed at the fact that she would soon be a grandmother. 

Evan and Julian and their sister decided, once they were older of course, to run a pokemon vacationland or daycare. It was highly successful and people from all over Flora and neighboring countries dropped their pokemon off there.

Hannah and Joshua Fairfield lived good lives, cherishing their children, Melody, Harmony, and the youngest, Brian, who really wanted to be a pokemon watcher.

Rochelle and Holden were very happy with one another. Each day was just as amusing as the next, and even more so once she started having children. A baby per year for six years is how went, and they all came out happy and healthy. There were three boys, Holden Jr., Laurence, and Devon, and three girls, Christine, Cassandra, and Charlize.

Chadwick and Charlene had a wonderful life. especially once they focused on composing, with a random concert here or there. They had one child, a boy named Chadwick Jr., who they adored. He became a pianist and a violinist.

Peony and her husband had one more child, a boy name Robert, many years after Phoebe (A/N: Sorry for calling her Penelope, I was thinking about the heroine of a Julia Quinn novel called Romancing Mr. Bridgerton) was born. 

She thought that Rosie's marriage was very romantic and did not dare hinder her progress. However, she did receive the brunt of Rose's yelling, for allowing her to do so. They made up immediately.

All of the women stayed in contact with one another by frequent visits, correspondence, and meeting at gatherings, as did the children who were practically inseparable.

Skyler, once aboard his ship with Rosie, while docked at Olivine City, received an urgent letter from some long lost uncle of his, who was very elderly and dying, that told him and his wife to immediately come to Hydrangea Island to Briarcliffe Castle.

The man was the Duke of Briarcliffe, Skyler's father's eldest brother. He told him what really happened to his parents and announced that Skyler, since he had no sons, was the Marquis of Ashbrooke, a village nearby, and that upon his death he would be the new Duke of Briarcliffe.

Skyler was shocked, not only by his grand title but by the fact that his aunt and uncle were not really his parents. Rosamunde did her best to comfort him at this time, and acted as surprised as he was, to ease the pain. He confronted his foster parents soon after and demanded why they did not tell him. They told him that they could not muster up enough courage to face him. He quickly cut them off that they would always be his mother and father, because they fulfilled all the requirements except the whole biological situation. A heartfelt moment was shared.

Freddie and Rosie got off well in marriage, their love was true and they were good friends also. They might have argued, but when you live with someone and love someone, you will not agree on everything. They adopted the surname of Briarcliffe, and mainly spent their time at Ashbrooke Park, a nice country home. 

I will not mention how many children they had, for you will find out in another installment...

In conclusion, this is what happened to the characters in the 19th century. I had fun writing this, strictly for enjoyment purposes and not for reviews; I am a devout fan of 19th century literature. I hope that the fiction did not appear contrived in any way and I hope that you will like the next installment.

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Signing off, etc.—The Sapphire Prince

^_-!


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